


Beware Of Mages

by traumschwinge



Series: The Monk And The Demon [4]
Category: X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Dark Magic, Established Relationship, F/M, Faustian Bargain, Harvestfest, Herbalism, Historical Inaccuracy, Jealous Erik, Kidnapping, M/M, Magic, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2015-04-18
Packaged: 2018-03-18 23:09:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3587511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/traumschwinge/pseuds/traumschwinge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After decades and decades on the road, Charles longs for nothing more than settling down. Just a few years, maybe, not long enough for anyone to notice he doesn’t age like he should. Naturally, Erik has concerns about this plan. It’s a whole new world of dangers opening up when people get to know you better. Still, Charles follows through with his plan and settles down in a small town as an apothecary.</p><p>But what about Angel? Is Erik’s distrust of her justified, or is Charles right when he says the demon is just jealous? And what is it with this mysterious uncle that orders materials for dark magic from Charles?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Few Years Of Peace And Quiet

**Author's Note:**

> I will update every Saturday (and Ch. 6 is only the Epilogue so it'll be published the same day as Ch. 5)  
> Also, Angel/Charles is not something that will really happen, but if you have a problem with a date and flirting, this might not be a fic for you.
> 
> E for both violence and sex in future chapters!

"What do you even need a shop for?” Erik complained for what felt like the millionth time. Charles had long since lost the nerve to even pretend he'd care about it.

“I need it because I want it,” Charles snapped back at him. “Now get out of the way or help me or something or I will throw that book of yours into the chimney.”

Erik stepped aside and leaned against the wall by a corner. “There's no fire in the chimney,” he remarked dryly as if that threat wasn't a threat and he had no reason to panic because he could be sure Charles wouldn't do that. Would he? Charles knew Erik well enough by now to know what was going on in that thick, yet to other people mostly invisible, head of his.

With a thump, Charles let a wooden box fall the last few inches from his hands onto the counter. “It takes me seconds to light a fire and you know that,” he sighed. There was no bite in his voice. They had had this argument for decades. Charles wasn't going to do anything, Erik would stay because he had nowhere else to go and didn't want to leave anyway and they would have this argument again in a few weeks.

“Why do you move all those boxes by hand?” asked Erik a while later.

“Because I like it that way,” Charles replied. He hadn't even looked up from where he was emptying the box's contents into the shelves behind the counter. He heard Erik snap his fingers and a moment later, the remaining bottles and smaller boxes and the two leather pouches started to levitate slowly into their new homes. “Stop that!” Charles hissed. The one box that was a little bit behind the others and had not yet settled fell from thin air and broke open when it hit the ground, scattering little dried flowers everywhere on the floor. Charles cursed, causing the dry wood stacked in the hearth to burst into flames.

“What if somebody sees this?” Charles hissed. Hidden behind the counter, he had no qualms about using his magic to make every single bit of the flowers go back into the self repairing box as if on its own volition.

“But there isn't anyone here,” Erik complained. “And this is why I don't like towns. You're less fun about doing magic than usual. Which says a lot. Why, oh why did I have to choose somebody who doesn't even like to use the gift of magic I granted them?”

“Because you like me,” Charles smiled. He prepared to get up from the floor again, the small box in hand, when Erik leaned over the counter and looked down at him.

“I do,” Erik chuckled. “I like you very much. One could even say I'm fond of you.”

“Are you now?” Charles hummed. He put the box in the shelf where it now belonged, before he let Erik turn him around. “And what are you going to do now?”

Erik let out a soft growl. He was holding Charles close, almost possessive. Charles liked that, very much, never mind that he would never tell the demon as much. It would only give him the wrong ideas. And Charles rather liked it to be the one who almost always initiated their kisses. Just like he did now.

“And what would people think if they saw you kiss the thin air?” Erik murmured against Charles lips.

“You could always decide to let yourself be seen by them.” Charles wouldn't have that. It wouldn't be the first time. They were always careful, but once in a while, Charles simply forgot that he was the only one who was always able to see the demon, especially when they had just spent months and months with only each other for company, again. “And I like it when you suddenly turn into a red-haired amazon.”

Erik snorted. “Of course you do.”

Instead of replying to that, Charles kissed Erik again.

“What was that for?” Erik grumbled. He had yet to let go of Charles.

“For being not as annoying about all this as you want to be,” Charles chuckled. “Thank you for that.”

“It's not my fault you're getting old,” Erik grinned. "I even do my best to prevent that, actually."

Charles let out a long, tired sigh. “Well, more than a hundred years of your company would make everyone feel old and weary from time to time. I promise you we'll travel again, eventually. But for now, let me enjoy a few years of peace—or however long this will last.” Charles had no illusions about this lasting forever. It couldn't. Eventually, people would start noticing that he didn't age. Or he would be careless because he started to trust them or just because he was comfortable in this town and would use his magic in front of ill-meaning eyes. So many things could happen. They would be back on the road sooner rather than later. However, for now Charles was happy to have a place to call home, no matter for how brief a time.

“A few years,” Erik conceded. Then, he pressed a kiss against Charles' forehead. “On one condition?”

“Which condition?” Charles mumbled. He was tired after a long day upon long weeks of searching for a town to live in, then a shop to own, then finally goods to sell. Then, he had to negotiate prices, for everything, even the tiniest things. Buying a shop hadn't been that hard. It was a small town and he had bought a small shop the former owner of which had just died without willing heirs. Paying had been easy. Even though most thugs weren't wealthy, the sheer mass Charles had encountered while wandering the lands was both astonishing and disturbing. If you had a long time and didn't need much, money also tended to accumulate. Charles had come up with a story that made him a traveling merchant that had finished his apprenticeship just now and was looking for a place to settle down and sell herbs, because he liked the smell of them.

“You put a hex on our bedroom,” Erik said. He was petting Charles' hair now.

“Our bedroom?” Charles chuckled. “What kind of hex?” He tried to sound interested, but it came out tired for the most part. He should just have Erik let it his way and do the rest with a spell or two. And then get to bed, because magic always exhausted him even more than doing things manually. Doing it that way, though, also meant that he wouldn't have to leave Erik's embrace.

As things started to float from the boxes into shelves and drawers in the shop, Erik explained, “Alter it, so we can be there. Really be. And nobody else will see a thing, Charles. Just put a spell on the windows and hex the door so only we, you can pass. Please, Charles, that's all I'm asking of you.”

Charles sighed. That demand wasn't impossible and it was a sensible thing to do. “Promise,” he whispered. “Not today, though, I'm exhausted. All I want is to get to bed as soon as possible.”

Erik grinned. The last goods had arranged themselves in their new spots on the shelves and in various drawers. “I think that can be arranged.” Without even bothering to look if there was anyone out on the street who could see Charles, he swept the sorcerer off his feet and carried him on his arms upstairs, to the bedroom.

Later that night when he watched Charles in his sleep, Erik mused how a man that once burned down an entire castle and later had the remains crushed with his powers so nobody would ever remember its existence in a few generations, a man who was by now in his late thirties for a second time in his life, could still look this innocent and peaceful.

  
  
  


*** * ***

  
  


Charles had occupied himself with preparing herb mixes he thought would come in handy, when he was disturbed by the front door opening, admitting his first customer in. It was a young boy, well dressed for a town as small as this one, his brown hair short and an unsure expression in his features.

“Good day,” Charles greeted when the boy remained standing in the doorway and glanced at him as if Charles could read his mind to see what he wanted. Charles could, however the effort stood in no proportion to what he might learn. So instead, he asked, “How can I help you?” He added a friendly smile to it for good measure.

“My Mother send me to fetch medicine for my little sister,” the boy blurted out. If Erik hadn't been sulking in the bedroom, he would have laughed at this sudden outburst.

“Can you tell me what's wrong with your sister?” Charles had already turned around to the shelves behind. Chamomile, he had learned when they had wandered the riverside of the Rhine decades ago, would help with a lot of aches and illnesses. So if the boy didn't know, he would tell him to make his sister a cup of tea with every meal. In more cases than not, he had seen this work.

“She's hot,” the boy interrupted Charles' thoughts. “She feels like she's burning up and coughs a lot. Mother keeps a wet cloth on her forehead but she's not getting cooler. Please, you have to help her.”

Charles nodded. Fever, coughing—dangerous to the very young, old and weak and yet nothing special. He had seen so many people die of sicknesses like that, and just as much walk away from it without any lingering problems. Charles' hand hovered over the drawers for a moment, before he opened one and took out a small handful of crumbling dry willow bark.

“Put a bit of this in hot water and let her drink it,” Charles explained. “Make sure she drinks a lot while she's sick and tell your mother that she might want to wrap that cloth from your sisters forehead around her calves instead. And keep her warm.”

The boy reluctantly accepted the small pot Charles had put the bark in. “How much?” he muttered.

“Tell your Mother to send you round again with that pot and what she thinks my help is worth,” Charles smiled. He didn't have to worry much about money so he felt like he could be generous toward his first customers. “Food is welcome,” he added as an afterthought. Erik's cooking was all good and well, but he definitely didn't mind a change in his eating habits now and then.

The boy nodded, offered his thanks and was gone before Charles could say another word.

  
  
  


*** * ***

  
  


The boy didn't come back before the afternoon. By then, Erik had decided to gift Charles with his presence once again, though he was still grumbling about how he didn't like staying in one place at a time for too long and that he didn't like this town in particular. Charles decided to dismiss it as Erik's usual complaints. If Charles took even half of what Erik grumbled about serious they would never do anything. And Erik never meant any of it serious anyway. It was just something the demon did.

Charles was just weighting two herbs against each other for one of his personal mixes—which he would need for the hex he would put on the window and the door of his bedroom like Erik had suggested—when the door opened again and admitted the boy from the morning.

He was smiling at Charles this time first thing after he came through the door.

“Is your sister feeling better already?” Charles chuckled. He might or might not have cast a slow working healing spell on the willow bark in the jar as well, nothing big, just something to encourage it to work.

“Yes,” the boy cheered. “The fever is going down already and she's sleeping soundly now. Thanks to your medicine, Mister.” He walked to the counter and put the jar on it. “My Mother sends her thanks too. And she told me to give you this.” The boy produced an egg and a few apples from a bundle and put it on the counter. Two carrots followed. “I hope that's alright for the medicine?”

Charles nodded. “It's more than enough,” he smiled. It had been a while since he had had apples he hadn't stolen—or been given by Erik which amounted to the same thing, really. Living in a town really had its perks beside a roof over his head and walls to keep the nasty weather out.

He stored the food under the counter. When he stood back up, the boy was gone and there was a young woman in his store, raising an eyebrow at him. “You're the new pharmacist?” she asked. It was clear she didn't think he could be any good and that he would have a hard time to prove her wrong. Her accent was unusual, nothing Charles had expected to hear out in the country. He had heard it in the South, in the Mediterranean, but he never had encountered it anywhere else. Her looks with the dark skin and black hair, however, fitted the accent, so she might be from there. What she was doing in a small town in the North on this island, though, he had no idea.

From the corner of his eye, Charles could see Erik glaring daggers at the poor girl.

“Well, yes I am, opened up today, actually,” Charles said, putting on his most charming smile. It earned him nothing but a glare with her. “How can I help you? Or did you just come here to glare at me and continuously insult me just for my being young?”

The woman shook her head. “My uncle wants to know if you could get him a few ingredients he needs for his medicine,” she told him. Then, she pulled a piece of parchment from her belt. “Here's a list.” When Charles raised his eyebrows at the long list of common and unusual names of plants and minerals, she added, “Don't worry, I'll pay good coin. Silver or gold, just name your price.”

Charles shook his head. “I don't know if I have some of them in stock, I might need to ask traveling merchants. But most of them shouldn't be a problem. It might just take a while putting them together for you. Could you come by again tomorrow?” He kept his mind carefully blank about the list. Some of the herbs and minerals on it he recognized. And not from a medicine book.

“My uncle was very specific that I had to bring back at least some of the things on the list,” she insisted. “He's short on alcohol and sulfur. Please. He told me he needs disinfectants.”

Charles sighed and nodded. He doubted her words, though he wasn't sure if she was aware that she wasn't telling him the truth. However, he would be a fool to ask. So he said, “That should be possible.” He turned around to fetch the sulfur he kept on the lowest shelf, in a well sealed jar. He did it without hurry and without any visible hesitation. Still, she rolled her eyes and muttered something like “ _Pater mea_.” when Charles turned his back to her.

The way Erik cursed made it sound like she wasn't commenting his reluctance to do business with her.

Charles took his time to take out the sulfur—he had to hold his breath while he did, most people hated the smell—and put it into a smaller jar that he sealed with wax almost immediately after he had put the plug in the opening-and to fill a small bottle with the clear medical alcohol he kept in a big balloon under the counter and as far away from the fire as possible. Because she had said that her uncle had wanted the things as disinfectant and just to spite her, he threw a small sachet of dried chamomile next to the jar and the bottle.

“There,” he said, his smile still in place. “Those flowers are good in case he wants to disinfect the inside of his body as well. Alcohol and sulfur is for the outside only!” he warned her.

The woman quickly stuffed the goods into her bag and nodded. “Of course, I will tell him,” she muttered. Throwing two silver coins on the counter, she said, “I think that suffices.”

Charles took the coins and nodded. “See you tomorrow,” he smiled.

“You better have the goods for my uncle or at least a good explanation,” she snapped, before she stormed out without a good-bye.

“Shit,” Erik commented when she was gone.

“We're in trouble,” Charles sighed, burrowing his head in his hands in desperation.

  
  
  


*** * ***

  
  


“What are you doing?” Erik hissed.

Charles had shut the shop for the day and locked the front door. He hadn't dared to hex it shut. Despite his shock about the list still lying on top of the counter and waiting for him to prepare the wares the young woman had asked for, he tried to remain outwardly calm. Inside, his thoughts were a maelstrom asking the same litany of questions over and over again.  _Why, oh why had he moved into the same town as an alchemist? Was she a witch? Could she have noticed Erik? Could she have noticed there was something wrong with him? Would this blow his cover? Why did this have to happen to him?_

“I need to prepare her purchase order,” he said, taking a deep breath. Of course, he knew he had everything this uncle was asking for. Though he wondered if he could get away with lying to her about two or three items of the rarer and more dangerous kind. He would lie to her about himself and try to hide Erik's existence from her no matter what so what were a few other lies in the name of the greater good. He had no idea who this uncle person was but he had a bad feeling about it.

“No you don't,” Erik snapped. He was pacing in the small space of the shop like a caged animal. “I don't like her!”

“Listen,” Charles tried to sound calm about this. “If she hasn't noticed that something's off about me, there's no reason to make her suspicious about me, us. Please, Erik?”

Erik merely snorted. “She twitched when I cursed.”

“No, she didn't.” Charles busied himself with pulling up boxes and jars and pots with all the most common ingredients to all kind of ointments and potions and medicine. All the things on the list he couldn't deny her even if he wanted to. Not without raising suspicion at least.

“She did and she looked me in the eye for a second before she left,” Erik insisted. “And she was staring at the tome!”

Instinctively, Charles' hand came to rest on the book under his shirt, still safely there where he always kept it. “You're just jealous,” he chided. He wished he would be as dismissive about the mess as he made himself sound. He didn't dare to laugh at Erik for his paranoia. Something in the back of his mind told him that the demon was right this time.

Or Charles could just be going mad from spending too much time with the demon he had promised his soul and eternal self to.

“I am not,” Erik hissed. “That witch's evil.” He snarled another word, a word that made the fire bristle and turn green for a second.

“You didn't like that she stared at my behind when I bend over to get the sulfur,” Charles hummed. He didn't feel like humming. But every topic was better than to worry about another sorcerer living nearby.

“True,” Erik amended. “But the sentiment still stands. She's evil. Dark magic. I can feel it. Maybe not she herself. But… the air around her is full of it.”

Charles shuddered. Only once before Erik had mentioned something like this. He didn't want to remember the outcome of that. He had almost lost his life back then.

“Nonsense,” Charles sighed. He looked down at the things he had put on the counter and compared them to the list. “Now come here and help me figure out which of the things missing from the list I can 'forget' without making her or the mysterious uncle suspected that I'm quite sure what her uncle's up to.”

Without looking, Erik pointed at a few words on the list. “Leave them out,” he growled. “They're rare and she won't be too surprised if you needed time to get them for her. I think she might even be more surprised if you had all the things. Give her this,” he pointed at the name of a rare plant from the isle’s south. “And nothing else of the rarer stuff. That should suffice for now. And he can do nothing with that plant alone.”

Charles looked at the list and thought about it for a while, before he nodded. “I hope you're right.”

Erik grinned. “Have I ever been wrong?”

“May I remind you of the small mushrooms you swore to me weren't poisonous that had me vomiting the whole day after I ate them?” Charles said. He acted stern but there was a glint of humor in his eyes.

“That was one time and I told you not to drink that beer,” Erik huffed.

Charles bend over the counter to kiss Erik. “I understand you're concerned,” he murmured against the demon's lips. “I promise you we'll leave at the first sign of trouble. But for now, let me be.”

Erik let out a low sigh. “Fine.”

  
  
  


*** * ***

  
  


Charles watched Erik remove the last nail that had held the threshold to their bedroom in place. With some effort, he removed the step next, revealing a mix of hay and dry mud beneath. Charles forced out a handful of it, then another one, enough until the hollow was big enough to hold the small bag filled with herbs and other items he had prepared earlier.

“Pass me the board,” Charles asked when he was done with the bag. Erik handed him the step and then returned to his observation post against the wall. It didn't take Charles long to burn a seal into the wood with his magic. He had had a lot of time to practice it and knew exactly what he was doing, had done so countless times in one city or another, sometimes in remote inns, sometimes in well visited ones. This was a first only in that it was his own place he was now damaging, securing it with little things his magic could hold onto that made it easier to protect himself, the tome, Erik. He could do so without thinking, but he preferred not to, willed himself to pay attention to every detail, every stroke, every movement of his fingers over the dry, splintering wood.

After he was done, he put the step back in place with Erik's help. Pushing the nails back through the wood with his magic meant they wouldn't be overheard, but it was exhausting him more than it would have if he'd just used a hammer. They already had tempered the bedroom's single window with his magic as soon as night had settled in. So Charles had nothing left to do but to undress and crawl into bed.

Though, still, there was yet one more thing he had to do before he could go to sleep, he remembered.

Already almost entirely undressed, he clasped the tome close to his chest. The familiar weight and the feeling of smooth leather under his fingers grounded him again, when he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “You're still worried about her, aren't you?”

He could feel Erik wrapping his arms around him in his mind rather than with his body. “I just have a bad feeling about this,” Erik sighed against his hair. It made the hair on the back of Charles' neck stand on edge, but in a good way. “It could be nothing.”

“It's never nothing with you,” Charles gave back. “A little blown out of proportion, maybe, but never nothing.”

“So…?”

“So I will be wary of her and generally more careful,” Charles amended.

“I know your definition of careful,” Erik said, though he sounded more amused now. Less outright worried. Charles turned around in the demon's arms. They kissed.

“You worry too much,” Charles told him.

“And you never worry enough,” Erik completed the phrase. They had had this argument many a time before.

“You're mine,” Erik growled low, the sound of it making Charles shudder. “But just because I get your eternal soul after you die doesn't mean that I want you to die just now. It would be boring. And I've grown accustomed to having such an undemanding Master.”

Charles recognized this for what it was. Full of his own affection, he kissed Erik again. Soon, he would show him just how demanding a Master he could be if he wanted to.


	2. Spring And Summer

Weeks passed and nothing happened.

The woman—Angel, as Charles had learned by now—had accepted his explanation on why he couldn't get all the things her uncle had wanted without question. Now she was coming by the shop almost every other day, most times to fetch this harmless ingredient or that for her uncle, but some days, she would just come to talk to Charles.

Erik hated that. He had almost been livid after the first time it had happened. They even had a fight over it, Charles insisting that Angel was just a nice girl and he didn't care for more than her friendship while Erik had been equally insistent that she was trying to seduce him and he was falling for her honey trap. It had been their first real fight in decades, but it would not be the last.

They hadn't talked for days after.

Charles hated it—and he knew Erik did, too, but he wouldn't acknowledge that.

Of course, Charles had other customers as well. Now, as spring hat turned into summer and the first hay needed to be made and brought in, just in time with the usual epidemic of early summer, he was getting busier by the day. Almost every day, someone would come running to ask him for medicine or—more often than not—just drag Charles out of his shop to a family member, or friend, or neighbor who was sick or hurt or simply not feeling well. Every night, Charles would fall into his bed, exhausted but happy and pleased—and well-fed which never had been something he'd taken for granted in all his life.

From his talks with Angel he learned quite a few things. Angel had been born in a small sunny village at the Atlantic coast. Her Mother had died when she'd been nothing more than a toddler and there had never been a father around. So one day, her uncle had taken her in and with him, to the North and across the sea. They had traveled half of her life—not a long time by Charles' own standards but long by that of anybody else—before they had settled down in the hall of her uncle's—and therefore her—ancestors.

This, he found, might be the reason why talking to her was easy. She was well traveled for her age, not as much or as far as Charles had but it was just to be expected. She was not a hundred and thirty, after all. She eventually told him once how much she missed the South's warmer weather, the sun and one memorable afternoon had been spent discussing the various colors of the sea. Erik had been angry with him for days, grumbling things like  _trap_ and  _evil_ and  _not jealous_ all the while.

Despite his questions, Charles hadn't learned much about Angel's uncle. All he knew was that the man worked as a doctor and searched for a cure for his illness—whatever that was. Charles mused that he must be either a bad doctor or charge a lot, but that was all based on how busy he was himself with the sick and hurt rather than on fact, so he kept that thought to himself.

If he only knew that uncle, he could dismiss Erik's concerns as paranoia and stop worrying himself. Angel, at least, seemed to be perfectly safe to be around.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


One sunny morning, Charles decided that he had had enough. He needed a day off, one day without being called to look after some idiot who didn't know how to wield a scythe so he or she would not cut their own legs instead of the hay, a day not spent sitting next to a bed occupied by someone coming down with a nasty flu. For one day, he decided, the townsfolk could look after themselves well enough. He would face the consequences when he returned tonight. Right now, he needed to restock his supplies. The most desperate need he had was for whitethorn.

Using more spells to ward off evil—partially because of Erik, partially because he thought himself that it was necessary now that he was living in one place all the time—had taken its toll on his supplies.

So Charles had taken a knife, something to eat and the tome, of course, with him and had left the town around dawn. He remembered having seen a few of the trees about an hours walk away from the town. He would head there first and then look around for places where he knew might grow other plants he needed. There was no reason to hurry and he could take this day as his day off.

It wasn't hard to find the whitethorn trees he had been looking for. It was far enough off to ensure that they wouldn't stumble about anyone, though, so even Erik didn't object to talking like he had all the time while they had been walking.

“Are you feeling better now?” Charles asked. “You have been even moodier and more silent than usual. Even when we were walking on the road with no soul to be seen for miles.”

“Just because we don't see them doesn't mean they aren't there,” Erik grumbled. “I don't like that town. And I like it less every day. Please, Charles, let's leave. You had your little adventure. Let's get back on the road.”

Charles snorted. “Sure. Curious it's you who doesn't have to walk or sit his arse sore on the back of a bloody horse who says so. And I like the town and its people. What would they do if I just left?”

“Go back to as they were before we came to town,” Erik grumbled. He looked from Charles to where he was headed and hissed. “More of that?”

Charles looked at the whitethorn bushes. “Well, yes, of course,” he said. “You insist that I ward my shop against evil and that's the easiest thing I can come up with.”

“I didn't teach you that,” Erik grumbled. Charles smiled. If that were the core of this problem, he would be relieved. But he knew it wasn't.

“I promise, I will look up another spell,” Charles sighed. He kissed Erik's cheek. “But for now bear with it.”

Erik grumbled. “That stuff gives me headaches and you know that.” He let himself fall down in the grass next to the trees while Charles went to work. “Speaking of headaches, why isn't it keeping your girlfriend out if it wards off evil?”

“Angel's not my girlfriend,” Charles sighed. “And wouldn't that prove that she's not as evil as you make her out to be?”

Erik snorted. “Sure thing. You're the studiosus here.”

“Are you still mocking me for what I was before you came into my life?” Charles was now hacking at a thicker branch, wary of the whitethorn's thorns. “It's been more than two generations since I left that wretched monastery for good and we both know that I'm glad I did.”

“I don't know that,” Erik grinned. “You complain a lot. I have yet to live to the day when you won't complain about anything.”

Charles laughed. “The same goes for you, my friend. Some days, I think you're rather worse than I am.”

Erik hummed in response. Charles could hear him shift his position on the grass. He knew the demon well enough to be able to imagine what it looked like, the muscles of his body flexing under the skin, the shirt riding up and revealing a thin stretch of skin. Erik was a vain creature indeed. But Charles supposed if one of the devil's own couldn't be full of sin, who else could? And he would take the sculptured perfection of Erik's upper body over a goat leg any time.

However, Erik hadn't been stretching as Charles realized a moment later, when he could hear footsteps coming in his direction, before Erik's arms wrapped around his waist. There was a hesitation in the movements, deliberate and slow, Erik not as close as he would usually be. Charles could almost sense Erik feeling guilty about something. But that was ridiculous. He knew they had long since passed the border to unhealthily attached to each other, for their kind of relationship at least. Charles wasn't sure what would happen if he ever told Erik he loved him. Maybe that would work like a curse against the demon and turn him to dust. Charles would never want that. And yet… he was aware that they were acting the way lovers would, even though neither of them ever said it out loud.

“What's wrong?” Charles asked, pausing in his attempts to cut through an especially stubborn twig. He rather leaned into Erik's embrace anyway.

“If you…” Erik swallowed the words. “You like Angel, don't you?”

Charles sighed. So this was what it was about. He should have known. “I like her, as a friend,” he said.

“But if I… you never… as a monk, you knew you'd never…” Erik seemed at a loss for words, a rare occasion indeed. Charles could save him the trouble, but he enjoyed it far too much to see the demon struggle for once. Erik never helped him out when it was the other way round after all. “If you want a family, I won't stop you.”

Charles bit his lip not to laugh. If that was all Erik was worried about. “If I ever wanted a girl,” he drawled out. He had to phrase this properly to make the demon understand he wasn't going to give up any of the things they had gained together in these past hundred years. “If I wanted a wife, why didn't we make a pact that you would get me the perfect girl in return for my soul instead of having a pact that says you give me the power I want in return of my soul when I get myself killed. Which, let's face it, will happen eventually. Maybe. It could always happen. People in charge are getting more and more wary of magic and the things they don't understand.”

“You won't let that happen to you,” Erik said with a kind of conviction Charles found it hard to put his finger on what that was supposed to mean. “You don't want me to collect dust in a forgotten corner of a library for centuries again. I like the outside very much.”

“I know you do.” Charles dropped the knife as he turned around to finally face Erik. He had no desire of finding out if the juice on the knife would be enough to hurt Erik. He had also dropped the twigs and branches he had gathered. “And I promised you to be careful. It might surprise you but I don't have much of a death wish myself.”

He sealed their lips with a kiss before Erik could respond. “I'm not going to give you up this soon,” Charles growled when he pulled away again. “You wanted to make me yours but for now you're mine and I will make the best of it.” He grinned. “And in return for being so obedient to my wishes, I'm not even going to try wriggle myself out of our pact. I could. It's in the book, you're not almighty. But I won't. It wouldn't be fair. I await my punishment on a distant day.”

Erik's hands stroked down Charles' back to his ass and gave him a squeeze. “You could have your punishment today if you wanted,” he purred.

Charles shoved against Erik's chest, hard enough to make him fall. Erik just grinned and pulled Charles down with him, onto the grass. “Me punishing you would be more like it,” Charles gasped. The impact had taken his breath away. “Punish you for not trusting me.”

Erik grinned. “Sounds good to me.”

“Good,” Charles grinned back.

Erik's hands hadn't shifted, not even throughout the fall and impact on the ground. The grass a thick, soft carpet here, almost softer than the bed Charles owned so it hadn't been too hard on Erik's back and head. Not that Charles was sure the demon even felt pain. Sometimes he was convinced he didn't, but most of the time, he had the feeling that Erik simply always had been good at hiding his pain and feelings and had gotten even better with the centuries. Charles wriggled his hips, rubbing his ass against Erik's hands.

“What should I do to you?” Charles hummed. “Or should I let you do something for me?”

“Whatever it is you're up to,” Erik growled. “Make it quick. What if somebody comes by here and sees us?”

Charles rolled his eyes. “What if somebody comes by and sees me on my stomach a foot above the ground talking to the thin air?” he huffed. He had pushed himself up on his arm and was fumbling with the straps of Erik's braies. Why he even bothered with clothing when Charles was the only one who could see him most of the time was a mystery, really.

“They'd probably be right with their first assumption,” Erik grinned. “You're possessed by a demon.” He looked far too pleased for Charles' liking.

Charles merely huffed as he went on to loosen his own braies and then push both down just enough to wrap his fingers around them both, not bothering to remove their hosen and braies. He could feel the tome uncomfortably pressing against his chest, so he hesitated for a moment, before he sat up and fumbled it out from beneath his doublet where he kept it at all times, close to his heart. He placed it in the grass next to Erik's head before he lowered himself again, hand flat on the worn, well-known surface of the leather binding.

He could feel Erik shiver under him as he moved. He could barely suppress a shiver himself. They kissed again, long and slow, just like Charles always liked it. He knew Erik had to be getting impatient but he still took his time before he started to stroke them both, his hand barely able to wrap around enough of both of them. The first strokes were quick, just so long until they were both fully hard, before he went back to a slower pace, to tease Erik and himself, enjoying every second of it. He kept this up until Erik started to thrust into his hand, unable to stop himself any longer. Charles smiled as he moved his hand faster. He gave up on teasing Erik soon after, chasing after his own orgasm.

Later, when they lay in the grass, too lazy yet to get up and move again, for a brief moment, Charles couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched. There was not a soul around as far as he could tell. And yet it took him a while to shake that feeling off. Tucking the book back in helped, but not much. At first, it even made the feeling worse, as if the tome had been the center of the attention all along.

He didn't tell Erik about this.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


The next weeks Charles spent restoring more and more of his ever diminishing stock on healing herbs and tinctures. He would spent a day out in the woods or fields collecting what he needed and what he could find and knew and the next few days busy in his shop, preparing his finds whenever he wasn't called out to help with one injury or another illness. Angel kept him company ever so often, more and more as the days grew hotter. Eventually she would spent more days than not at his shop or even accompany him to his trips outside the town, much to Erik's chagrin.

He still didn't like her and refused to even be seen by Charles when she was there. So he stayed out of sight whenever she was at the shop and when they went out and therefore too far away for Erik to stay at the shop, he disappeared to the devil alone knew what dimension inside that book—or whereever, Charles had stopped listening after a few minutes when Erik had once tried to explain it to him. Some part of him, the once deeply pious one that withered long before he had met Erik, still resented everything that had to do with demons and the devil.

They fought a lot about Angel. Erik was convinced she was up to no good and would get them into a lot of trouble eventually. With every time she came around, he grew warier of her. Charles had long since stopped to make fun of him for that. Instead he was increasingly frustrated with Erik's behavior and more often than not, Erik wouldn't lie by his side when he fell asleep. He didn't like it but most of the times he was too annoyed by Erik's constant paranoia to care.

The trouble was, as of late they never seemed to stop being mad at each other no matter what they did. It was like something was preventing them from reconciliation. Charles blamed it on their bloody-mindedness and left it at that. Talking about this with Erik would lead to another fight for sure.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


The day that eventually would see their biggest fight to that day started out nice and quiet. Charles had let one of his tinctures cook in the fireplace of the shop over night and opened all the windows to air the smell out. Angel came over some time between morning and noon. She chatted a little bit with him, filling him in with the latest town gossip while he filled pots with the tincture. Eventually, they moved on to prepare another medicine, Angel helping him by cutting some herbs while Charles went to fetch water. Erik had told him many times that he shouldn't leave her alone in the shop, but Charles would have none of that. After all, there was nothing in the shop that wasn't what it seemed to be.

Anything incriminating would be found in his bedroom.

He came back with a bucket full of water he found one of the boys from the neighborhood in his shop, looking pale and at the brink of panic. Angel was trying to talk him down but stopped when Charles reentered the room. The boy-John, Charles recalled—lived only two houses down the street and was twelve, maybe thirteen years of age. His eyes immediately flickered towards him. He opened his mouth to speak but all that came out was a strangled sob.

Charles put the bucket down by the door. “What's the matter, John?” he asked. The boy looked like a frightened deer, like he would bolt at any sudden movement. Charles walked slowly over to the counter, where he kept his emergency satchel. “Is anyone hurt?” They would have started harvesting grain today. He had heard a lot of the men talk about this for days and the weather was so nice today and would hopefully stay like that for the next few. The perfect day for an accident, really. Charles had almost expected this.

“It's Thomas,” the boy sniffled. His brother, Charles remembered. “He… We were… there was so much blood.” He looked like he was about to burst into tears or faint.

“Easy,” Charles said, as calmly as he could. “Can you tell me what happened? Wait, don't answer that. Take a deep breath and then tell me, where did he hurt himself and how.”

John nodded. He clenched his shaking fists and drew in a few quick breaths until he was able to take longer, deeper ones. “He cut his leg with his scythe,” John said, his voice still wavering. “Please, we have to hurry.”

Charles nodded. He took the satchel he had packed for accidents like this. “I'm afraid I'm needed,” he told Angel. “Would you like to accompany me? I might need some help with that.” What he didn't tell her was that he would prefer to close his shop instead of leaving her to watch it. He didn't trust her enough not to go snooping around when he wasn't there for more than a few moments.

But she nodded. “Just tell me what you need me to do.”

“We have to get to him first,” Charles replied. “John? Show us the way.”

John was only too happy to get moving again, to be doing something again that wasn't standing idly and waiting. He led him out of town to the nearest field, where the harvest was in progress. And still, a crowd had gathered, a little way off from those busy cutting down grain.

The closer they got to the crowd, the stronger the smell of blood got. Charles clenched his teeth. He had known what he had to expect before he'd left his shop. He could have stayed away. But it didn't matter now, he was here and he would help the poor boy crying in agony and clutching his leg.

Charles knelt down next to Thomas, blood already soaking some of the ground around the boy's legs. It wasn't as bad as Charles had feared. Someone had actually pressed down some cloth against the wound. It still didn't look good, but he might pull through. Charles opened his satchel. He had some freshly washed and cooked strips of cloth in there, together with some moss he kept to soak up the blood.

It wouldn't do much but in some cases it was enough to stop the bleeding and wait. Thomas was still young, he might be strong enough to pull through on his own. Charles removed the cloth of the boy's hose around the wound with his knife, carefully peeling away from the wound. Without the cloth sticking to it the wound looked worse but Charles thought the boy still might survive.

“Can you hear me?” Charles asked. “Thomas, are you still with me?” He waited just long enough to see the boy nod in response, his teeth clenched in agony, before he went on, “What I'm going to do next might sting a little.” He took out the moss and pressed it to the wound. Thomas hissed in pain. He beckoned Angel to come closer. “I need you to hold this down while I wrap his leg. Understood?”

Angel nodded and pressed her hands down on the moss just like he showed her.

Charles took his bandages out and got to work. He didn't speak, just focused on dressing the wound with care. Every few heartbeats he looked at Thomas paling face, noticing his breathing growing shallower and shallower. Charles swallowed.

“He's going to die,” Erik whispered in his mind. “You can't save him like this. He will die.”

Charles didn't answer that. He just stubbornly went on dressing the wound, glaring down at his hands as if he could keep Thomas alive by his will alone. He could see Erik was right about the boy, he just refused to believe that. And there was always another option up his sleeve.

“Don't you dare using your magic in front of  _her_!” Erik hissed.

Charles decided to ignore him. A young lad was dying under his hands here, he could stop it and he would not let him die if he could prevent it. As subtly as he could, he started to pull the wound together beneath the wrapping and moss, stopping the blood and letting the wound heal a little. He was careful not to do too much. If the wound would disappear or close too far too soon, people might grow suspicious of him.

 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


Charles needed Angel's help to get back to the shop. He had overdone it, without even noticing. That had been, until he had tried to get up and stumbled back to the ground, his head spinning. When Angel had asked what was wrong with him, he had replied it was just the blood and exhaustion and how they had hurried to Thomas to save him. Angel had nodded like she did believe him, like she hadn't noticed what he had been doing. Charles had been relieved by that, but Erik's voice in his mind had bore more resemblance to a thunderstorm than ever before.

He had asked Angel to leave him to get some rest as soon as they had reentered his shop. She had looked doubtful but she had agreed, even though just on the condition that she would visit him first thing the next morning. Just to be rid of her sooner, Charles had agreed. He had waited leaning against the counter until she had been out of sight. Then, when he was finally alone, he allowed himself to limp around to the other side of the counter and slump down to the floor there.

Curiously, even then, there was no sign of Erik.

Usually, Erik would have asked if he needed a tea or blanket or hug by then. But there was no sign of him, not even a voice in his mind anymore. Charles touched the tome to make sure it was still in its place. The warm leather under his fingers soothed his sudden panic a little. So at least nobody had stolen it from him. Erik wasn't talking to him because he didn't want to, not because he couldn't. That helped enough for Charles to calm down enough to get irritated at first and then angry.

"What the hell, Erik?" he hissed, driving his nails into the leather binding of the book. No matter how unsure he was whether or not Erik could feel pain inflicted to the body in which he showed himself, he had known from the beginning that the demon could feel anything that happened to the book. Still, there was no reply from the demon.

"Erik!" Charles called, as loud as he dared. His nails left lasting marks in the already battered leather.

"Well then, if you need to have it this way, so be it," Charles grumbled when Erik still failed to show up. "Erik, come here. I order you. Don't make me force you."

"Like you could," Erik huffed from up on the counter where he had chosen to appear. Charles had to turn and crane his neck to look at him. He did so for two heartbeats, before he gave up and went back to stare at the rack in front of him again. "In your current state, you couldn't even summon a fly. But now I am here, so what do you want? It's not like you give a rat's ass on my opinion, anyway."

"That's not true!" Charles snapped. If Erik had just showed up to fight, then he could have that fight.

"It is! Why don't you ever listen until it's too late!" Erik jumped on his feet. From his stance, it was clear he was only moments away from pacing around the shop.

"Should I have let the poor boy die?"

"Yes, you should, you should have let him die or rather, you should have never been there in the first place, especially not with her!" Erik was just short of yelling.

Charles curled his hands to fists by his sides. "So that's what it is about again?" he snapped back. "Your stupid, blind jealousy of Angel?"

"I am not jealous!" Erik hissed back. "You should have seen her watch you while you healed the boy! She was watching you like she knew all about you, as if she knew what you are and what you're doing."

"Fine, so you're not jealous," Charles replied in turn. He pushed himself up. He wouldn't just sit there and be yelled at by the demon. "You're just paranoid. I got news for you, as much as you doubt it, not everyone is out to get us, or you! And while we're at it, I like this town! And if you don't want to stay, just say the word and I will work out how to release you! As we both know, there are ways!"

"Maybe you should," Erik said, but there was no fire behind his words. He was standing in the middle of the room, staring at Charles. "Why not? What harm would there be in it? You don't need me and I sure as hell don't want to stick around a magician who never wanted the power I granted in the first place and rather kills himself than being careful for one damned second."

"Fine!" Charles slammed the tome down on the counter with what strength he had left tired as he was. "How about we start by you sleeping down in the shop? Maybe, if we're lucky, somebody comes by and takes you with them!"

With that, Charles left the shop for his bedroom. Erik looked after him, not that Charles cared. It took him a long time to fall asleep that night and he woke frequently.

An hour before sunrise, Charles padded down to the shop again to collect the tome. Erik, of course, wasn't there. Charles hadn't expected him to be. With the tome under his cushion however, Charles slept soundly for the rest of the night.


	3. Harvest Moon

When Angel came to his shop the next day, Charles send her away again with the rather weak explanation of him still feeling sick. It only helped his cause that he looked haggard, thanks to the sleepless night and his woes with Erik. She went away without too much of a protest.

For the rest of the day, he kept his shop open for customers, but only handed out medicine. The news that he wasn't feeling well spread fast, and by noon a boy came round to bring him a bowl of soup from his mother whom he had helped with an infected wound a couple of weeks prior.

Erik didn't show up all morning, though Charles could feel his presence around the shop. It was just as well. Like that, Charles was able to concentrate on making a few simpler medicines and organizing his storage beneath the counter. Simple tasks that needed a bit of presence of his mind nonetheless, so he had both his mind and hands occupied. It didn't leave much space in his mind to worry about Erik. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been able to stop himself from revisiting their fight over and over again. He had done enough of that the night before.

Erik turned himself visible for Charles again around three in the afternoon. He even tentatively wrapped his arms around Charles by means of saying sorry. Charles allowed it and, after just a little hesitation, hugged Erik back for a brief moment. They were, after all, still in his shop and he couldn't have a customer come in while he was hugging an invisible force. One misstep, Charles reminded himself, was all it took to lose him the shop and his home again. Maybe even his life.

"I was a bit jealous yesterday," Erik admitted. It made Charles smile as that was the closest Erik would ever come to saying he was sorry for something he felt he had every right to do or be. "She irritates me with all the attention she focuses on you every time." He sighed. "And her interest..."

"Makes you feel threatened," Charles completed the sentence. "I know. You don't have to tell me. And I have to say, you were right, I was a bit too careless yesterday. Apparently, people think I look overworked, so there's no harm done, but..." He shrugged.

"You? Overworked? Why ever would they think that? You're only up from dawn til dusk, bandaging idiots and feeding medicine to the sick. Medicine you have to prepare at some point, too." Erik huffed. "People could show you a little more gratitude."

Charles smiled at that. "And what but gratitude would you call all the free warm meals they send round because the women around here think I can't cook for myself?" he chuckled.  
"Domestication," Erik smirked, which earned him a prompt swat. "Maybe, just maybe, you really should get yourself a wive after all."

Like that, their fight was forgotten for the time being.

  
  


*** * ***

  
  


It was three days later, when Charles first heard about the upcoming harvest festival the town apparently held every year, when the main part of the harvest was dealt with. Some young women that came over for cramp medicine asked him if he already had asked out a lucky girl. When he had said, no, he hadn't, they had winked at him and told him that he would sure be asked out before he knew it.

Since it hadn't been Angel teasing him like that, Erik thought it was very funny.

Two more days passed with some female customers halfheartedly trying to set him up with their daughters while still making it easy for Charles to decline their advances. Erik took up teasing Charles about it by then. That was, until another worried mother asked Charles out for her daughter in front of Angel. When Charles declined that offer as well and after the customer had left, Angel turned to him. 

"Don't you want to go to the Harvest Festival?" she asked.

Charles shrugged. If he was honest, he hadn't even thought about it. "Well, from what I learned on my travels, I planned to keep my shop open that night," he admitted. "Festivals usually mean people getting themselves hurt in one way or another." Behind Angel's back, Charles could see Erik nod.

"Can't you deal with the fallout the next day?" Angel asked. "I wanted to ask you out, but if you're not going, it can't be helped." She shrugged. "Enjoy the night alone, then."

Charles raised his eyebrow. "Are you now trying to get me to reconsider?"

She grinned. "Maybe. I flirted with you for so long, you could at least go out with me on this one occasion."

Charles did his best to hide how alarmed he was by Erik's expression. "I knew it," the demon spat. Charles glared at him, but didn't dare to comment.

"But I am a little old for you, am I not?" Charles protested weakly.

"I didn't get the feeling you're very opposed to have me around all the time." She leaned forward and batted her eyelashes. Charles instinctively leaned away from her.

"I have you known that there are a lot of people who would consider this behavior very indecent," he said. From how Erik looked at her, he was seconds away from hexing Angel. For once, Charles couldn't blame him.

"Yes, but you don't," Angel said with so much certainty Charles was inclined to believe her.

"I don't want to go," Charles said, more defensive than he'd intended to. "Maybe next year?"

"Why wait so long?" Angel huffed. "Am I not good enough for you?"

"Yes!" Erik hissed. He had come so close Charles was sure Angel had to feel his breath on the back of her neck. "You're evil, this festival is part of your evil plan and he's right not to go with you."

Charles glared at him again when Angel wasn't looking for a moment,  too busy fumbling with her necklace for a moment .

"Fine," Charles sighed. He had still his eyes fixed on Erik instead of Angel. "I will go with you." He raised a finger to stop her from saying anything to it. "On the condition that it's only for a couple of hours and you won't mind it if I help people should they need me to."

She nodded. "Of course. That was always a given."

Charles closed his eyes. He didn't want to see the hurt and anger battling behind Erik's eyes. "And, please, tell me your uncle know's about this?"

"I asked him before I asked you," Angel said, so quickly Charles wondered what she was trying to hide from him with this answer. Great, he thought, now I will probably have to deal with an enraged warden. 

"If you say so," he sighed. "Will you come here before the festival, or should I pick you up." Erik had disappeared, he noticed. The book inside his shirt felt uncomfortably warm.

"I'll come by," Angel promised. "I doubt my uncle would let you leave before you listened to all the little ingredients he desperately needs you to get for him as soon as possible."

Charles shuddered. That was a very good reason not to come to pick her up, as well as the fact that he still was not entirely sure where exactly she lived. 

She smirked like she had been able to read his thoughts. "I'll see you then, Charles," she purred and leaned forward. "Because I am afraid I will be very busy over the next week and can't go around on social calls. My uncle always needs all the hands he can get around this time of year."

Charles stopped himself before he could ask if it had anything to do with the Harvest Moon . He still wasn't ready to tell Angel about his suspicions concerning her uncle yet.

Instead, he nodded. "See you then."

She waved as she left. However, Charles had the sinking feeling she'd rather kissed him instead.

"I am doomed," he told the thin air, which was still distinctively lacking demon. Silence agreed with him.

  
  


*** * ***

  
  


The week until the festival passed without incidents. Nothing unexpected happened. Even the expected failed to happen on some occasions. Charles had less customers than usual. It seemed like the whole town was too bus y to even get sick. Those who weren't out to gather the last crops so the festival would mark the first day after the hectic time of harvest, busied themselves with decorating the town square and their houses. On the day before the festival, a huge bonfire was prepared in the middle of the square, about twice Charles' own height. It would be lit as the highlight of the festival. However, the sight of it left Charles with a glum feeling, like fires of that size always did.

Erik didn't show himself often during the week. Angel didn't come at all. With both his favorite beings absent, Charles started to feel lonely. But as lonely as he was he hadn't it in himself to just force Erik to stick around, even if he could. It would only lead to more fights. Erik had made it abundantly clear that he considered going out with Angel the worst mistake of Charles' entire life. That included but was not limited to making pacts with demons.

Charles didn't get it. Erik had never acted like this when he had courted women before. Was it just because he had settled down and there was a prospect of him staying with a woman for more than just a few weeks or months? But that didn't explain why Erik insisted she was evil. Charles wished he would see his point there. He'd not even once felt anything even remotely resembling evil or dark magic from her, as far as he could remember. And he had been looking.

On the day of the festival, Charles closed the shop around noon. He refreshed the protection spell on his bedroom, changed into a set of fresh clothes--and he had some of those now, the perks of living in a town instead of on the road. Erik showed up when he was just tying the neck of his shirt.

"So, you're really going?" he asked. His voice was devoid of any emotion, just as his face was a plain mask. Only his eyes showed how conflicted he was.

"I am," Charles said.

"And there's nothing I could say to make you stay?"

Charles shook his head. "No. And is that the only reason you showed up here?"

Erik shrugged.

"Well, then, you can leave again," Charles huffed. He had been alone for the whole week, had been lonely, just because Erik thought he was right in sulking over Charles decision. Whenever he'd lain awake at night, he had been angry at him, more than he had been saddened by his absence. 

Erik crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"What?" Charles hissed.

"I don't like it," Erik stated. Charles rolled his eyes at the obviousness of the statement. "But... I hope you have fun tonight."

That was unexpected enough for Charles to fail to come up with an immediate response.

Erik turned his face away from Charles. "Do you plan on staying out tonight?"

Charles shrugged. If he was honest, he didn't expect anything from tonight, only to have fun with a friend. 

"Leave me here," Erik demanded, turning suddenly back to face Charles. He must have drawn his own conclusions from Charles' silence. "Do what you want to do, but I don't want to watch you and that girl all night. Besides, we don't want the book getting in your way of getting laid."

"What?" Charles didn't want to believe what he'd heard. 

"Leave the book here," Erik repeated. "It's safer here, too."

"If that's the way you want to have it," Charles snapped. He had thought he'd understood what Erik wanted to tell him but he'd never thought Erik would go as far as this. It left him feel numb and betrayed. So, naturally, what he did was yank out the book from his shirt and slam it down on the nightstand. "Don't you dare sulk at me later for this, Erik, you wanted it this way."

With those words, Charles grabbed his doublet and left the bedroom, ignoring the look Erik shot him.

  
  


*** * ***

  
  


Charles waited for Angel down in his shop. It was still early, too early for her to show up already. He didn't mind. It just meant he had more time to calm himself down from the fight with Erik. He was only too aware that he wouldn't be able to give a good explanation why he was irritated and in an overall bad mood.

At first, he was set on simply willing his anger away, but when that didn't help, he busied himself with preparing some medicine that would keep and put a few things out he thought he might need should anything happen that night. He was almost expecting to see more than a few cuts and serious bruises, not to mention the number of people who would definitely get drunk beyond their capabilities. There was not much he could do for the drunkards, but everyone else... He put what clean linen bandages he had on the counter and a couple of disinfectants next to them. As an afterthought, he added some balm to soothe burns.

Just when he had added pliers to the pile as well, the shop door opened. Charles looked up, ready to tell whoever it was that he had closed the shop for the night when he realized it was Angel, not a customer.

She was not wearing her usual apron and both her kirtle and the gown over it were more colorful than usual, with the colors complimenting both her dark complexion and each other. She was also wearing a belt he had only seen on her a few times before, usually on the days when she was more determined to flirt with him. All in all, she looked so beautiful and set on courting him in front of the entire town Charles wanted to bolt. 

"You're early," he noted instead. He still had a couple of things he had wanted to move to the counter again, but it wasn't all that important. It had only been to busy himself before her arrival anyway.

Angel smiled at him sweetly. "I can leave again, if you want me to," she chuckled. Her eyes flickered over the items on the counter. "That is, if you're really all that busy."

Charles sighed and shrugged. "I'm not sure if I am," he lied. "I just don't feel too well leaving my shop on a night like this. Something is always bound to happen."

"So you said," Angel said. She was still standing by the door, watching him closely. "But why don't you just take a few basics with you? I'm sure it would be better if you actually were there in case your misgivings come true."

"One minute then," Charles murmured, his shoulders slumped. As much as he despised Erik for his paranoia right now, he was feeling more and more uncomfortable around Angel when she was so obviously determined to get him to court her. There was no reason for him to fall for it. He wasn't even all that interested, he told himself, not for any reason. He still packed a pouch with basics as she had proposed, before he tied the pouch to his belt.

"Ready now?" she asked, once he was done. She was already holding out his tunic that had been hanging next to the door for him, too. 

Charles rolled his eyes. "I'm sure a few minutes won't hurt as much as you make it look," he murmured, taking the tunic from her and putting it over his head. 

"Well, you never know." She winked. "Sometimes, the first of the food is gone already by the time the latecomers reach the town square."

Charles huffed. "I'm sure it is. It's not like the town seems to be set on eating the entire harvest in one night."

Angel elbowed him companionably in the side. "Don't be like that. Haven't you ever visited a harvest festival on your travels before?"

"Once or twice, maybe," Charles allowed. "But I'm not all that keen on them." That was, he hadn't been ever since he had started to travel with Erik. Before that, when he had still been a monk of scripture, he had loved them for the distraction they were. And before that... Charles did his best not to think too much of the festivals of his childhood. Nowadays, they seemed to him to be more hassle than they were worth. 

Angel rolled her eyes. "How can you?" she asked as she lead him outside where she waited patiently for him to lock up his store. He also checked on the more obvious part of his safety spells and seals to be sure they were unbroken. He had been too angry before, but it didn't feel right to leave the tome behind now. He was just a moment short of running up to his bedroom again to fetch it.

"I'm not young anymore," Charles said by means of explanation, still fighting the urge. It took surprising effort to turn to Angel again and lead her down the alley towards the town square.

"And that's why you can't enjoy festivals anymore?" Angel laughed.

"No, but that's part of the fun gone," Charles admitted. "I wouldn't go there just to have a few drinks and get to know the local girls better and have a few more drinks."

Angel shook her head. "So you're content to live on your own for the rest of your life?" She didn't sound particularly hurt, but as Charles looked at her, he could see it cross her face in the evening light.

"I..." he sighed. "I'm not as lonely as I might look. I have people to care about, I don't necessarily need a wife to make my life complete." And he had Erik. Or at least had had him. Finding himself a wife would possibly put a stop to that for good, or even more than reacting to Angel's flirting already had. It also meant to hide the fact that he wasn't aging at an appropriate rate or rather at all from somebody indefinitely closer to him than friends and acquaintances. No, it was all just too much of a risk to even consider it. 

"Does that mean there's no woman in the world that could sway your mind?" She was smiling sweetly at him.

Knowing what answer was expected of him, Charles decided to play along for now. It wouldn't do to anger her this early in the evening. "I wouldn't be too opposed to having my mind swayed by the right woman," he admitted, looking away just to make his act even worse.

They arrived at the town square shortly after. The bonfire was not yet burning, but there were people gathered already. They had tables dragged outside to put the food on. It was more than Charles had expected, the year's harvest must have been very good. He could see mostly fruit and perishables, even though there was also no lack of meat, pork and mutton and even some fowls from what it looked like. Part of this festival was to eat all the food that was too much for the storages or could not be preserved fast enough, Charles knew, but seeing it was something else. It had been a long time, ever since he'd left the monastery, since he had seen so much food in one place.

There were also some musicians or at least people with instruments standing by a still mostly empty patch of space by the side of the square. One or two of them were already playing, stray notes wafting through the air above the general noise large groups of people tended to generate. Later, Charles was sure, that space would be filled with youngsters who had mustered enough courage--or drunk enough--to ask their sweethearts for a dance. For now, though, food was still of more interest to most.

Charles and Angel went around for a bit, stopping ever so often when Charles spotted a neighbor or customer and had to chat for a bit. It was still astonishing to him how many friends he had made in the short time he had lived here. They even met Thomas and John, the older of the boys still limping a little but otherwise looking fine. Charles was glad he did, but he couldn't help to ask about how his wound was doing. Thomas' short answers indicated clearly that he was not aware of any irregularities and was just glad to be still alive.

After that, Angel left Charles alone for some minutes to get them something to eat. Charles waited for her, never alone, because as soon as one person who had wanted to talk to him was gone, another would take their place. He had never noticed just how many people there were. Or how much of a people person he still was, no matter how many years he had spent without being part of a community. This what what he had missed, this was one of the reasons why he had wanted to settle down. He wished briefly he could show this to Erik and make him understand.

That thought was gone when Angel returned with their food, two bowls made from stale bread filled with some stew. They watched the bonfire getting lit and then the fire itself for a while, not talking all that much, as there were still people coming over to talk to Charles. Angel was just at his side, watching him more than anyone else. Something about it made Charles nervous, but he decided it shouldn't be a problem if he showed it. If anything, most would assume he was just shy about her obvious advances.

After they'd eaten, Charles let himself getting dragged towards the musicians, where a lot of the younger people were already dancing. So far, no one had gotten themselves or others hurt. Charles took that as an indication he had no reason to be as gloomy as he felt about the evening. He should simply enjoy himself for as long as possible and then return home alone.

However that thought was one for later, right now he was doing his best to follow Angel's lead and dance with her, without stepping on her feet, even though he had no idea what the dance was that was currently fashionable. To his luck, it wasn't too difficult to pick up, though, and he soon could dance along without looking too much where he was going or watching others. It even was fun, when he finally relaxed enough to enjoy it.

Angel was obviously to enjoy herself too. She was smiling more than Charles had ever seen her, and for once truly relaxed. It was weird for Charles, now that he was noticing it, that she'd always looked partially uncomfortable, or at least nervous around him before. The bad feeling he'd harboured all evening returned with more force then.

The incident he had been waiting for all evening happened soon after. There was a crash and then screams from the direction of the tables. Charles immediately excused himself when he heard it, leaving it to Angel to follow him if she wanted to.

The scene he arrived to was dominated by an empty space around a place where a burning log had rolled to from the bonfire. It looked like it had scared some of the idly drinking people, some toppling over when they scurried out of the way, ending in more than one person on the ground, moaning and aching. From what Charles could see at first glance, there hadn't been any blood spilt. Not yet, at least.

"What happened? Anyone hurt?" Charles asked immediately. He was on his knees next to the one man who wasn't moving much anymore before he knew. He checked his pulse and just to make sure the man was still breathing as well. All in all, it was more likely that he'd drunken more than he could take, than him being seriously hurt.

It took them all a couple of minutes to figure out that nothing serious had happened, that all that needed doing was to roll the log back, brush off a few knees and arses and then go back to the merrymaking. Only Charles stayed behind, feeling numb and still reeling. This wasn't the incident he had been waiting for, he had only thought it would be. And yet... The feeling of imminent dread was stronger than ever.

Behind him, the bonfire cracked.

He turned around, only to find Angel looking down at him.

"Charles?" she asked. "Are you alright?"

He shook his head. "No," he sighed, glad for the opportunity to get out of there and hole himself up in his shop until he was needed. "I don't feel all that well. I think it would be better if I went home."

Angel looked conflicted for a moment, but quickly averted her gaze to take a sweeping look over the crowd. Charles had the sinking feeling that by going out with her, he had been had. Something, he was suddenly sure, was very very wrong here. In his mind, he reached out for Erik, but of course, without the book or any other tool, it was difficult for him to get a hold on the demon.

Erik, please, tell me you're alright, I'm coming home right now, Charles thought frantically, pushing himself up and then walking off to the side of the square as fast as he could without running anyone over. From the corner of his eye, he saw Angel following him, just when he felt like a cold hand had grasped his heart.

Charles gasped.

As soon as he was outside the circle of light around the bonfire, as soon as there were no more people standing in his way, he started to run. He heard Angel's steps behind him, hurrying to keep up. His head was spinning slightly, like the ground beneath his feet was swaying. He tried to locate the tome, but whenever he felt like he had gotten a hold of it, it moved, faster than a running man would, preventing him from grasping it. Charles swallowed hard. He had been such an idiot. He should never have gone out that night, or at least shouldn't have left the tome behind. 

The door to his shop was wide open, apparently blasted open by sheer force, when he reached it. Charles didn't even pause, before he was running up the stairs to his bedroom. His heart hammered in his chest. He hoped not to find what he knew he would, until he reached the upper landing. The door to his bedroom was missing, the protective spells he had cast had vanished.

The tome was gone.

  
  


_* * *_

  
  


It took Charles some long moments until he could muster the strength to move again after his discovery. He checked the windows, the wardrobe, every place he could think of to make sure it was only the tome that was missing. If it had been just a normal burglary, the shop's cassette with his earnings stored in the back of his wardrobe should be missing, along with a few of the more valuable tokens from his travels. But of course, nothing was missing, not that he had expected it, not after his seals clearly had been broken. Only somebody who knew about magic could have done that.

He forced himself to go back down. There was nothing he could do up there, not without the tome. But downstairs, Angel was waiting for him, in the middle of the shop, looking conflicted and uncertain.

"Why are you still here?" Charles snapped at her. He wasn't in the mood to even pretend she had nothing to do with this. "Get lost!" He needed to figure out where the tome had been taken, and the sooner the better, but not while Angel, while somebody working against him, was watching.

"What happened?" Angel asked. She hadn't moved an inch.

"Somebody broke in," Charles growled. He was arranging everything he would need for a divination spell on the shelf under the counter, where Angel couldn't see it. "I need to see what else they took."

"Can I help?"

He looked up over the counter. "You can get lost two minutes ago," he proposed. The circumstances were too dire for niceties, Charles decided. His life might be at stake. That was something not even he could brush aside with a smile.

"But..."

"No!" Charles snapped. "No, you did enough already by luring me out tonight." He bit back a curse, but wasn't able to swallow all of it in time. A small jar of chamomile caught fire. "Get out! Only your uncle could want what was stolen! So don't you dare to tell me you weren't part of this, because knowingly or not, you were! So get out of here, before I forget I actually liked you! That I defended you! Oh, how right he was!"

Angel was staring at the burning jar like she had put under a spell by it. "But who..?" she started, before Charles interrupted her again, "OUT!" She fled, leaving him to his divination spell with the door wide open.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Once Angel was gone and Charles had calmed down enough to actually think again, he walked across the room to close the door, before he set the few things he needed for his divination spell on the floor in the middle of the room. He sat down cross-legged next to the items. He was still not calm enough to do delicate spells, he knew, so he spent some more precious moments collecting himself and taking deep, calming breaths before he was ready to pick up the coal he intended use to draw a magic circle with.

The connection to Erik and the tome was still there, weak, but there, so Charles reached for it and concentrated as he drew the circle. He didn't let go as he lighted the candles he had brought over, nor when he was filling the cup he had in place of a proper goblet with water. Magic was working without most of the ruffles and style most of the times, he had learned long ago. It was always more about concentration and confidence. He still had brought some thyme to burn as incense anyway, because he liked the smell and it was never wrong to appeal to spirits in time of need. Right now he could use all the help he could get.

When the incense was burning as well, he closed his eyes, picturing Erik and then remembering it was the tome he was looking for, not the demon possessing it. He was focused on his breath and the mental image, before he dipped two fingers in the water. Slowly, he started to stir.

For the first few stirs, nothing happened. But then, everything went dark and started to shake. It took Charles a few achingly disoriented moments to figure out what it all meant. He could smell a horse now, too. So the thief was still on his way back to his master--or hiding spot, though Charles was sure that whoever had broken into his home had been hired. 

He held onto the tome for as long as he could, in the faint hope to figure out where it was taken. Not before long, the horse came to a halt. Then, he managed to get a view on the rider, a black haired man with astonishingly red skin and scars on his face. He had stopped in front of a castle. Charles thought he had seen it before, from afar when he was on his way to town. He knew it, that was something, he realized, relief washing over him.

'Charles?' Erik's voice suddenly spoke up in his mind. 'Is that really you?'

'I... My friend, I'm coming for you, hold on,' Charles whispered back, as loud as he dared.

'Don't...' Erik started and then abruptly stopped. For a minute, Charles thought he had lost the connection. 'Wait, figure out the situation before you come. Please, Charles, be careful. This man knew exactly what he was looking for. I'm afraid he might be...'

'A mage like me,' Charles said, over the connection and out loud. 

'Just be careful, Charles,' Erik sighed. 'I know you will be, together we'll get through this, I'm sure.'

Charles didn't tell his demon how much he hoped that he was right about this. He just watched as the rider pushed open the heavy gates of the castle, vanishing inside and taking the tome with him.

For a few breaths, the connection wavered, before it was lost completely.

 


	4. Frayed But Not Yet Broken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for implications of rape. Shaw is a bad bad man and thus has found the most despicable way to immortality I could remember ever reading about. Send me an [ask on tumblr](traumschwinge.tumblr.com/ask) for details, I don't feel comfortable explaining the details in public.

Erik was hiding deep within the space created by the book's magic as his eternal prison, when he felt a rather forceful drag. Somebody was using magic to demand his attention. And that person was not Charles. Erik tried to hide deeper, to push the magic away, and at first it worked. The magic even withdrew entirely for a while. But then, the pulling took up again and this time much stronger than before, so strong Erik had no longer a choice to deny the one calling him his presence. As the person currently holding the book captive, whoever it was, Erik had to at least greet them if they demanded it.

He only hoped Charles would be careful when he came for him. They had time, some of it at least. He would fight for what he was worth, so Charles could devise a plan before he'd come for his rescue, instead of having him rushing to Erik's side blindly. However, he had to hope Charles remembered this as well. It had been a long time since Erik had felt this afraid, after all. He could only imagine how Charles must feel. They hadn't been really apart in so long. Erik cursed his own stupidity. He shouldn't have asked Charles to leave the book at home.

The place he was called to looked like a study or laboratory of some description. Shelves full of books were lining the walls, and there was a huge, wooden table in the middle of the room, with countless glass apparatuses, goblets and mortars on top of it. Erik's book was lying on the floor, and if that alone wasn't bad enough, inside a chalk drawn magical circle. It was enough for Erik to overcome the fright which had taken hold of his heart with irritation. He would never bow to a master this disrespectful if he could help it. Charles always kept the tome as clean and save from harm as possible.

"Why do you call?" Erik huffed. He crossed his arms and glared at the man before him. The man was old, older still than he looked, even though he looked like he was in his forties already, that much Erik could feel. But he could not sense a pact with another demon, so there was still reason for hope.

"So the proper, nice apothecary truly had a book possessed by a demon, who would have thought," the man mocked. His voice made the hairs on Erik's metaphysical back stand on edge. It wasn't a question, though, so Erik said nothing and rather waited for the man to continue. The man frowned at Erik. For a short moment, Erik hoped against hope that this would be it and he would be left alone until Charles arrived, but then the man raised a hand, the other gripping a crystal he wore around his neck. "I, Sebastian Shaw," the man shouted, his words laced with strange magic that had Erik struggling to keep his cool. "Demand a Pact with you, entity of this magical tome."

Erik raised an eyebrow. "No," he said, as calmly as possible. Inside, he was seething. The impertinence of that demand!

"No?" Shaw repeated. He was still smiling. "And why would that be, now?"

"I'm already bound by a pact," Erik explained. "Two pacts at the same time are against the rules." This was a lie, there were no real rules outside the pact he had with Charles that Erik knew of, but if there were, he was sure they would prohibit this.

Despite Erik's words, Shaw's smile widened. "Oh, so he really made the pact with you? How nice," Shaw hummed. "We are talking about the scribe tasked with copying your book, am I right? And you, opportunistic as any demon, talked him into a pact he didn't understand. You seduced him, not knowing that you delayed a chance of a lifetime then, the chance to have a pact with a real sorcerer instead of some idiotic little monk."

Erik's hand twitched. If he hadn't been imprisoned within the magical circle, he would have hit Shaw for insulting Charles like that. "He's a better mage than you'd ever be," Erik growled instead. "In fact, unlike you, he already was a mage before the pact."

"Oh, is he, now?" Shaw smirked. "I'm sure, in that case, it shouldn't be any trouble if I had him dragged here so he can be punished for his transgression."

"Don't you dare," Erik hissed.

"It's up to you to prevent that, my dear demon," Shaw said. "Make a pact with me and I won't hurt your pet scribe too badly before I kill him."

Erik bared his teeth with a deep growl.

"I take that as a no then," said Shaw. He sighed theatrically. "A real pity, however, it was your call. You're dismissed."

And by moving a small pebble from a parchment on the table, the bounds that had kept Erik in place vanished, leaving him free to retreat into the book again. Erik knew it was what Shaw expected him to do, therefore he sat down on the book, glaring at Shaw. He wouldn't go anywhere. And if Charles was to contact him again, he would be ready to tell him everything he knew.

*** * ***

After the connection broke, Charles had been left in a stupor for a long time. All he could do was stare into the candle flame and in the vain hope he would be able to pick Erik's presence up again. Still, he knew that he had been shut out by an external force, some sort of spell, that had nothing to do with Erik or himself. It had felt old and without any specific purpose other than keeping out any magic that wasn't the one of the caster of the spell. Forcing his way through the barrier would, if at all, only work with considerable trouble.

He shivered and soon realized that it wasn't just from the cold. It was rage as well. _How dared anyone take Erik from him?_ But the rage was an empty one that soon made way for the realization that he was at fault just as much. Hadn't he been the one who had been so willing to forget the first impressions he'd had of both Angel and her uncle, who had ordered all these dangerous materials and substances? He had even felt the dark magic around Angel the first time she'd come to his shop, damn him. He had just forgotten about it, because it hadn't been there anymore the next time she'd visited. He should have listened to Erik, should have been more careful.

With shaking hands, he put the materials of his divination spell away again and then went to get a fire going in the chimney. He was feeling cold again now that his rage had cooled. He missed Erik. Once he'd settled down and allowed himself to be afraid, he knew it would take himself a while to calm again. But then again, he needed to get his fears out of the way, he couldn't risk it overtaking him later, when he was on the way to get his Erik back. When it wasn't safe to be afraid anymore.

So he locked the destroyed door back up, after repairing it with some magic and adding more spells for protection. He couldn't be sure, but there was the possibility, always the possibility, that whoever had taken Erik would come back for him, too, after realizing that Erik wasn't cooperating as long as he was still Erik's master.

He couldn't bring himself to believe that the spells would keep the burglar out, as his last ones hadn't, but he would know once it was broken. It could give him a heads up if worst would come to worst. Inside his shop, he would stand a better chance to defend himself, he reasoned as he settled down in the narrow space behind the counter. The fire in the hearth was already somewhat warming the air.

Once he had settled down, he allowed panic free reign over his mind for a while. He was about to die, the thief had been after Erik and his powers and that meant that one way or another they would have to get rid of him. He had lost the one being in the world he trusted and needed and depended upon. Not to mention that he had only lost Erik because he had betrayed him, because he couldn't have been bothered to listen once in his life.

As expected, he needed a long while to come to himself again, after the initial flood of panic had become a raging torrent that would only very slowly calm again. He didn't move until he felt like he had his feelings back under full control. Later, when he was with Erik again--which he would be--he could whisper all his pleas for forgiveness in the safety of Erik's arms. Now, he had to prepare himself for getting Erik back first.

He threw two more logs onto the fire which by then had burned down to ash and embers. He would be up for a while still, he reasoned. Charles knew he would need rest as well, before setting out to go look for Erik, but the urge to prepare first and rest later was too strong. Knowing he would go up against another mage and most likely one that had turned to alchemy a long time ago, he needed to come up with a plan, maybe even ready-made spells for certain situations. Long decades have passed since he'd actually fought another mage.

It wasn't until hours later that he curled up behind the counter, falling asleep as soon as he'd come to a rest. He didn't dream that night.

*** * ***

Charles woke again around sun rise. It hadn't been long then since he'd fallen asleep, but he felt better, albeit a bit stiff in the neck from the awkward pose he had slept in. Light was already creeping into the shop. Now, Charles figured, would be a good time to try once more to contact Erik. He would just have to hurry, before the sun was up too high.

This time, he didn't use water. Instead, he pulled out a small bit of oak wood and placed it in a flat bowl so it wouldn't burn the counter. Then, he lit it on fire with his magic. Once the flames were burning steady, he stared into the middle of them, letting his mind go blank, focusing solely on the tome and flames. Like this, he was able to break through the spell blocking his way. He should have tried this spell in the first place, he reasoned now. It was easier to get a connection to Erik if he let the used materials help.

Charles closed his eyes when he heard Erik's voice in his mind, talking to the demon until the wood had burned to ash.

*** * ***

Just when Charles was putting the last things he thought he might need against an other mage into his pouch, there was a knock on the front door. He ignored it at first, but soon the knocking became louder and more urgent. For once, he had no qualms about using his magic to find out who it was. Who knew how much longer he would still have it. To his surprise, it was Angel.

"Go away," he called out through gritted teeth. "I told you to get lost yesterday, so stay lost, now!"

For a moment, the knocking stopped. Then, "Charles, you have to let me in, please, there's something I need to tell you. We don't have much time. Charles, please. I know you must hate me now, but let me in, you have to hear me out."

"Why don't you let yourself in?" Charles huffed. "I felt it in you when we met, you should be able to do it."

She rattled the door for a bit but then gave up. Charles couldn't even feel any attack on his spells. "It's locked," Angel sighed finally. "I don't know why the lock pick doesn't work, but please, I can't let myself in."

Charles pushed himself up to go open the door for her. If she was that insistent, he should at least listen to what she had to say. They had been friends, after all, at least from his point of view. He only gave her a moment to come in, however, before he slammed the door shut and locked it right after her.

"So, what do you want?" he asked, leaning against the door. She looked a bit hunted, her face unusually pale and dark circles under her eyes spoke of a sleepless night. He could guess that it had to do with what Erik had told him. "Or, rather, first tell me if Sebastian Shaw sent you."

Angel paled further by the sound of that name. "How do you...?"

"I have my means," Charles said, waving his hand to produce some sparks just so she would understand.

"You're really like him," she murmured, her eyes wide and terrified. "I wasn't just imaging it last night."

Charles shrugged. "Not quite, but close, yes," he told her. "And now he took something from me that was very important and I want it back!"

"You can't," Angel gasped. "We will kill you! He already wants to kill you! He was just about to send someone to get you when I left!"

"I wanted to go to see him, anyway," Charles said. "But I'd rather go on my own terms, so I appreciate the warning."

"No, Charles, you don't understand!" Angel sounded almost pleading now. "You must run, you have no idea what he's like, he won't just kill you. He hates you!"

"So I've heard." Charles forced himself to smile. "Apparently, the book he stole from me, I had stolen right under his nose before. Now, how is that, I wonder? That happened more than a hundred years ago."

Angel stared at him. After a moment of petrified terror, she reached behind her back, coming up with a knife that she pointed at Charles. "Where is she then?" she asked, her voice shaking.

"Where's who?" Uneasy about her sudden change of stance, Charles reached for his magic. "I have you know, if you attack me, I will retaliate."

"Your wife-daughter," Angel hissed. "I can't kill myself, but I swear, I will help her."

"What in all seven hells are you on about?" Charles let go of his magic again, now intrigued. He had a vague idea what she might be talking about, but it was almost too horrible to consider. He had heard of what some alchemists did to their daughters to prolong their lives. "I should perhaps tell you that I lived this long because of the artefact that was stolen from me, and not some ... more unethical magic."

Angel's knife wavered. "You... never... no?" she asked.

Charles shook his head. "No, but if you help me, I will do my best to free you as well."

"You can't," she whispered. The knife fell from her limp hands. "He'll kill you."

"I promise you, he won't," Charles smiled his most encouraging smile at her, even though he didn't feel like it. "He couldn't break my ... bond to the artifact he stole, that's why he needs me dead. So how do you think he'd defeat me in a fight."

"He's not like that, Charles, you don't know him." Angel hugged herself. "He's killed magicians before."

"So have I," Charles replied. Technically, it had only been one, but he was sure he shouldn't tell Angel that much.

"Not like him," she shook her head. "He kills people without remorse. He won't hesitate to kill you."

"So help me," Charles offered. "Please, trust me. I need the tome back, Angel. If the time we spent as friends means anything at all to you, please help me here. Show me at least the way to your uncle's hall."

The struggle she went through to reach an answer to his request was physically visible. She bit her lip, avoided Charles' eye, her whole stance changed until she reached her decision. "Fine," she finally sighed. "But only because we have to leave now. Before Azazel arrives."

Charles nodded, before he stepped away from the again unlocked door. He left it open after he had stepped outside, in the faint hope that when he returned, the place would still be there for him. With one last glance at his home, he followed Angel down the alley.

*** * ***

The place Angel took him to was surrounded by a thick forest. It was just far enough off well-travelled routes not to be seen by anyone coming through and Charles doubted even most people living in the town for generations knew of it's exact location. It was no small wonder, really, as he had been frequently told that the woods were haunted, that nobody who entered ever came back out. It was also why Angel had lied more times than not when it came to her home whenever she was asked about it in town. Her uncle owned another, smaller manor just at the border of the forest, only a short walk away from his real home. That was where all the suppliers were sent to, as well as anyone so desperate to beg Shaw for his help.

Charles had seen both places, when he had coming through the town for the first time, decades ago, but back then nobody had been living there. Had he known who owned them, he would have picked a different town to settle down.

As it was now, Charles followed Angel, as she gave even the decoy manor a wide berth, entering the forest from another direction. "I don't want to take the chance of running into Azazel," she had told him in a hushed voice, before he could even ask. Charles had merely nodded and followed her lead.

Once inside the forest, however, Angel stopped.

"What now?" Charles asked.

"We're at the threshold now," Angel explained in a hushed voice. "Any closer and my uncle or his assistants might notice. He had Emma, whom he teaches magic, do a magical circle around the hall."

"He has an apprentice?" Charles whispered back. This revelation has him pause for a moment to question just how wise it was to attack the other sorcerer head on. Two mages against him alone significantly worsened his chances to win, after all. It would be better, then, to save his powers and just try to sneak in and steal the book.

But Angel, unaware of the thoughts going on in Charles' head, only shrugged. "I wouldn't call it apprentice, exactly," she told him. "It's more like... well, I don't know any details, but... Uncle can't do real magic. He rather uses, well, the stuff he buys from you. I only ever saw him using magic against other sorcerers. But he lets Emma do magic all the time."

"So you think he doesn't have any magic of his own?" Charles nodded. That fitted what Erik had told him about Shaw's motives. "That's good to know."

Angel grabbed his arm and forced him to look at her, suddenly urgent. "Do not, please, please, Charles, do not think that means he's an easy opponent," she hissed. "I saw him murder sorcerers with their own magic. The stronger the enemy, the stronger my uncle gets. Please, be careful around him!"

Charles nodded, careful not to break eye contact with her. "I promise," he whispered, making it sound as solemn as he could, while he intended to break this promise if needed. Recklessness, he'd found, was sometimes the best way to resolve dangerous situations. "Can you draw this Emma out?" he said, after a brief moment of consideration. "If what you said is right, I want to take her on first, if possible."

Angel started to worry her lower lip between her teeth, clearly thinking. It took her a long while, in which Charles already reached for the small piece of oak wood he had taken with him. In case she couldn't do it, he would ask Erik for help, if he could.

Charles was just about to take the piece of wood out to call upon Erik, when Angel finally replied. "I think I can, maybe, if we're lucky. I... just don't know how to let you know if it works."

"It's alright," Charles assured her. He patted her arm for comfort. "I will know if it worked before you come back here." 

Angel nodded. "Wait for me here, then," she said, getting up from where they were hiding. "I won't be long if it works."

Charles waited before she was well out his sight before he started a small fire with the oak wood from his pocket.

*** * ***

Erik was still stuck in the magic circle when Charles contacted him. He refused to leave this world, but he was alone at that time.

"Shaw's unnerved by my constant stares," Erik huffed, sounding smug. "I hope you're far away by now."

Ruefully, Charles smiled at the fire burning in his hand without hurting him. "I'm in the woods close to the hall," he whispered. "Erik, I told you, I will not leave you. But I need your help!"

"What?" Erik hissed. "Get away from here, Charles! Shaw will do anything he can to let you die a slow and painful death!"

"I know that," Charles hissed back. "But I can't leave you! I don't want to. Listen, Angel just confirmed what you said about Shaw not having any magic of his own. She said he can use the magic of others, though. I have a plan, but I need your help for it."

"Charles..." Erik sighed, a sound full of century old exasperation. "Fine, what do you need?"

"I need you to call Shaw back to you before Angel gets there," Charles explained hurriedly, before he told Erik why Angel would come and why it was important for Emma to leave. "I need to see her leave through you. And... can you make sure he tells her what I asked you? That should help me a great deal if what I figured about them is true."

It was clear to Charles that Erik wasn't happy about it, but in the end, Erik gave in. "I hope you're right about them, I really do. Emma's not as powerful as you. But her and Shaw? It will be a problem, even for you."

"I know," Charles said grimmly. "I don't plan on losing against either."

"Just... take care, Charles, be careful." For a brief moment, the feeling of Erik's worry and love washed over Charles.

*** * ***

Erik took his time to think up how to lure Shaw back to the study. Even though Charles had said to simply call for him, Erik was reluctant to do so. He didn't want to give Shaw any false ideas. He had no desire whatsoever to submit to any wish of the sorcerer unless he was forced to. Calling for him would be a first sign of him breaking.

Breaking. Now, that was an idea. The experiments on the table looked very important, especially when he considered how often Shaw came to look at them. And, they were also very delicate. Erik grinned to himself. Even with his powers bound by the circle, moving or breaking some glass structure was not impossible. It would only take more effort than it should.

As expected, the sound of shattering glass had Shaw come running. He tried to hide it, but Erik had heard his steps, as well as him pausing outside the door to regain his posture.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Shaw yelled. A ruby red liquid was dripping from the table, formerly held by the glass Erik had shattered.

"I was bored." Erik shrugged, slowly, to make it clear to Shaw that he did not in any way care about the rage aimed at him. "You shouldn't play with powers you don't understand."

"And you... Oh, just wait until I have your little pet scribe." Shaw laughed without any real humor. "The second you're entirely mine, I will make you pay for this. Just like he will pay before. Don't! Make me angry. It'll serve you badly."

"My _little pet scribe_ at least knows how to handle his magic." Erik leaned back, to get away from Shaw as well as showing some false confidence. He did not want this man anywhere near Charles. It was only too easy to imagine him turning his words into facts.

"You say this as if he knew what contract from below you tricked him into," Shaw huffed. "As if he could understand it."

Erik let out a long sigh.

"What?!" Shaw snapped.

"You have no idea how bound I am by that contract," Erik smirked. "You'd never bind me like that. You don't have what it would take. But Charles did. Charles does." Erik stopped to listen. "I believe somebody wants to see you. It's urgent"

He smirked as Shaw's head whipped around when the door was pushed open. "Hello, Angel."

If looks could transmit hatred, Erik would now feel better than he ever had with the look Shaw shot him over his shoulder. "What is it, girl?" Shaw snapped at Angel.

For a minute, Angel just stood there, panting, struggling for words. "I... I led Charles here," she finally got out. "He's waiting in the woods, ready to be taken care of. He thinks I'm on his side, Uncle."

"Why didn't you just bring him here, then, dumb cluck?!" Shaw yelled at her. For a second, Erik felt almost sorry for her. "If he trusts you so much..."

She shook her head. "He trusts me, but he's careful. I couldn't get him to come here. You have to send someone to get him."

"And who should I send if I can't send you?" Shaw hissed. He grabbed her hard by her arm and shook. "Who?"

"How about you send your woman apprentice?" Erik suggested. "The only one here who has any real magic? After all, that means she's the only one standing a chance if Charles doesn't want to come."

"Are you implying I couldn't bring him in myself?" Shaw hissed at Erik.

Erik shook his head. "No, I'm just saying that she's the only choice if you don't want to get your hands dirty yet."

Shaw glowered at Erik for a moment longer, as if that would make Erik tell the truth against his will, before he turned to back to Angel. "Go fetch Emma!" he snarled.

It took a couple of minutes, which Erik used to unnerve Shaw even further by silently staring at him, until Angel came back with Emma.

"You wanted to see me?" Emma drawled, obviously ignoring Shaw's bad mood.

Shaw wasted no time. "Bring me that worthless scribe!"

"What?" Emma raised an eyebrow.

"I want you to go! And bring that book stealing scribe back with you!" he barked.

"Where is he?" Emma asked. She was making no move to leave. Behind Shaw's back, Erik was silently gloating.

"Hiding in the woods, Angel, that stupid girl, will tell you where, now leave!" Shaw was already trying to usher Emma out.

"Are you sure she should leave right away, just like that?" Erik interjected.

Shaw turned fully to him, furious. "Didn't you just tell me to send her and send her quickly?"

Erik shrugged. "Possible, but what makes you sure I don't just like fucking with you?"

"Leave! Just leave before I take matters into my own hands!" Shaw yelled at Emma, who, after once again raising a questioning eyebrow at Erik, hurried out after Angel.

*** * ***

After he snuffed the fire out to end the connection with Erik and return to the present, Charles waited for several more long minutes. It appeared that Emma was in no hurry to come to get him. Or Angel was willfully delaying her, Charles assumed. It would be like her, giving him one last chance to run. Instead of running off, however, Charles stretched, readied himself for the fight that would have to take place and mentally went over his plan once again.

If it wouldn't work, he would have to fight Emma as he would fight any other mage. Without Erik by his side, Charles was not sure what would come out of it. The vague idea he had about it, he didn't like in the slightest.

From one second to another, the temperature around Charles dropped. It wasn't just a chill that suddenly came over him, it was temperature sucked out of the air by magic. Within seconds, Charles had to warm himself with his own magic not to freeze. 

That was the moment he saw it, almost too late, distracted by his own spell. A twinkling between trunks. He had just enough time to pull up a firey barrier between him and the icy projectiles aimed at him. Some drips still hit him, even though the ice was melted. He wiped his cheek with his thumb. A second later and it could have been too late.

"They told me you're a sorcerer," a female voice called out to him. "I see it was the truth."

"I did not come to fight!" Charles called back. "I just want back what your Master has had taken from me!"

He knew it was futile to say this, but he needed time to prepare the next spell. Time he didn't get. His words not distraction enough, the next wave of icicles shot in his direction. This time, he just jumped aside. There was no point in wasting his energy on blocking if he could just dodge.

Charles concentrated on evading as best as he could, waiting for a chance to attack. He wasn't even sure where she was yet, only aware of the general direction her attacks came from. It left him with nothing else to do but to watch out for her next attack and slowly move closer to where he assumed her to be.

Soon, he thought he saw a figure moving between the trees. Pulling his fire magic up around him, he started to run towards it. Ice was easy. He could just hope it was all she had. Against fire as his own go-to magic, ice stood not much of a chance.

She, too, must have noticed him. Now he could see her clearly, but there was no way for him to reach her with his magic. She kept trees between them every other moment. Just as soon as he had a clear shot at her, she was behind a trunk again, forcing him to run after her.

She stopped on a small clearing, waiting for him. Charles hadn't even seen the open space before he stepped out of the trees.

His spell, however, was ready in his hand, just waiting to be let go.

"I don't want to fight you," he said again.

She didn't answer this time. He hadn't expected her to. When she raised her hand to summon more ice, he was ready. The spell sprang from his hand, igniting the air between them, melting the ice on its way. Emma didn't get a barrier up. She didn't move, either. She just stood there, waiting, until the flamestrike hit her.


	5. Chapter 5

The flamestrike focused in on Emma when it hit her outstretched hand. Charles could feel it slip from his control there, like it was pulled in by a force greater than his own power. Within seconds, the flames vanished, pulled in around Emma's hand without leaving any mark on her. She was smiling.

"Did you really think I would make it this easy for you?" She rolled her eyes. "Sebastian told me you quite liked your fire. He was looking into you, ever since he found you again. You've been busy this past century."

"If you know that much about me, you know what I did to the last mage that crossed me," Charles hissed. His eyes were glued to the magic around Emma's hand. The things she could do with this amount of power... In the right--or rather, wrong--hands, it would be enough to obliterate the entire forest. And yet, instead of attacking and taking him out, she was talking to him. As subtly as he could, Charles reached for his pocket.

"I know enough to understand you're quite dangerous. More so than Sebastian is giving you credit for," she sighed. "Too bad he showed me how to use your own magic against you." And with that, she pointed at him, murmuring a string of obscure words.

"Wait!" Charles cried out. Whatever she was conjuring, it would be enough to kill him if he didn't act fast. "But why are you fighting in Shaw's place if he's send you away?"

Her eyes narrowed to slits. "How do you know that?" she asked. For a moment, the spell hung between them, there and not at the same time, waiting for her command to spring into life. "And what do you mean he send me away?"

"Go! Leave! Leave!" Charles quoted. "A triple command by somebody who's--for all he has no magic of his own--a sorcerer. Who could defy that? But with the magic between us, who is he to force you to interpret his command in any other way than the one you want to understand it? I know he tricked and bound you to himself. He needs you more than you'd ever need him."

"So you're trying to get me on your side to defeat him?" The magic between them shifted color. Charles felt cold once again. His grip around the object in his pocket tightened.

He let out a small, resigned sigh. "I'm trying to tell you that you don't have to be on anyone's side here but your own," he told her. Already, he could feel the fire he would need to counter her attack swelling inside his chest. "You can choose your own and leave. There's nothing to bind you to Shaw anymore."

She smirked. "What if I want to stay on his side?"

"Then so be it, but I know the choice is yours and you will not be on the losing side," Charles said. For a moment, he had to concentrate not to lose grip on the magic inside of him. "And if you were sure Shaw's side is the one winning, you would fight, not talk."

The air around Charles suddenly grew very cold and only a leap backwards saved him from being crushed by a block of ice. He threw fireballs at Emma which she blocked easily, but that did what they were supposed to. He had only meant to distract her from the pillar of flames he summoned right behind her, sucking the air away around her. She stumbled and fell to her knees. With a quick gesture, Charles let the flame pillar disappear again.

"Are you still so set on being in my way? Why do you fight me?" Charles hissed. He was tired of this pointless fight, had been before it had even begun. "There's nothing in it for you, is there?"

"And what are you fighting for, scribe? Monk? The one who betrayed the god he swore himself to?" Emma was on hands and knees, breathing harshly. He had left her barely conscious with his indirect attack. "I am loyal to those I pledged my loyalty to."

Charles blinked. Now, that was something interesting. He was sure, if he hadn't made a big mistake, that Emma would never have pledged loyalty to anyone that put her under a spell to keep her around. But... "If I promise you not to harm anyone but Shaw, will you step aside and leave me be?" he asked. "I want to take back what's mine, that's all I care for."

"Anyone but Shaw?" she mocked but as she looked up, the fierce look in her eyes betrayed that she'd seen her chance and would take it. "Fine, so be it. But rest assured I will come for you if you harm either of those poor kids. If I find that Angel was injured or worse..."

"I won't harm her. I don't mean anyone harm," Charles promised quickly. "I only want my book back. My demon. Shaw took it. He will pay for that."

"Mine,mine, mine," Emma laughed. "You men are all the same. Is it really all you care about? What's yours?"

"If it's mine, I will protect it," Charles said. "I will protect what's mine or it wouldn't be mine. As long as I think like that, who'll stop me from protecting those in need?"

Heavy, Emma sat back on the damp forest floor. "Interesting choice of words. Of course, all that fire has to come from _somewhere_. Just make sure you don't accidentally burn yourself. Now go! I have no idea what Sebastian is planning but it can't be good for you to stay and wait. He wants that demon, just as much as you want to keep it." She got up on shaky legs. "If you see Angel, tell her not to stick around too long. I don't want her caught in the crossfire between you two."

Charles nodded. "I will," he promised. Without any look back at her, he started to run.

Only a few more minutes, and he would be close to Erik again.

 

*** * ***

Only a few more minutes, and he would be facing Shaw.

That thought had Charles stop dead in his tracks. He could already see some towers and parts of the hall's roof through the trees, even some stonewall through the trunks. He needed more of a plan than he had needed against Emma. He had known, after all, that he could beat her with raw power, even thought he was ever reluctant to do so. But on Shaw, that couldn't work. He had glimpsed at his magic thanks to Emma and if he was anything like Charles imagined a magicless sorcerer who still defeated mages, attacking head on would be his death. No, he could not risk having his own magic used against him. It was far to dangerous to go in like that. For a brief moment, he wondered if indirect attacks like drawing away the air around him as he'd done with Emma would work.

 _Fire_ , Charles thought, remembering what he had seen through Erik's eyes, _was a dangerous power indeed_. If they would meet in the laboratory, nobody would be able to tell what a fire could do. Charles had seen far too many ingredients used by alchemists explode or spontaneously catch on fire to risk anything like it. If there was a fire in Shaw's study, there was a high chance that nothing would go Charles' way. Or Shaw's, for that matter. Fire was not an option, Charles decided. The chance of accidentally burning the tome was far too high. Without the book, without Erik, there would be no point in all of this.

Charles clenched his fists. He needed a better plan.

He'd forgotten about the small stone he had been holding inside his pocket until that moment. It wasn't anything special, just a smooth pebble he'd found at the beach once. But he'd always found it easier to concentrate with it in his hand. Just like now, when everything suddenly became all that clearer. Not daring to contact Erik yet again and hoping the demon would understand enough to play along or even do so despite his lack of understanding, Charles dropped to his knees. What he was about to do would hurt, he knew, but sometimes, fighting was the worst option. Tactics, mirages, deception, all that was far more likely to turn a hopeless situation into an easy win.

He tore his sleeve, then. Conjured some icy needles to puncture his skin. He had to clench his teeth to keep from crying out and then clench them even more as he fought his own instincts to heal his wounds immediately. He took dirt and dead leaves from the ground and ruffled them into his hair and then didn't bother to pick what had fallen into his shirt and coat out again. He smeared more dirt and some of the blood from his arm and leg onto his face. If only he had a mirror or at least a pond to inspect what damage he had done. At last, he sat down for a long moment, preparing one last spell, in the hope it would work on Shaw if he just wouldn't see it coming.

Then, Charles got up again. He ran until he wasn't sure anymore that he couldn't be spotted from the hall. Then, he forced himself to slow down his pace. He changed the way he walked completely, his strides no longer wide and hurried, but slow as if every step caused him physical pain. He even went as far as to drag the leg he hadn't injured behind a bit. An arm wrapped around his torso as if he was in pain there as well completed the picture.

 _Let Shaw think that Emma almost got me_ , Charles thought as he dragged his seemingly tired body to the hall's main gate. Let Shaw think whatever he wanted. Charles was ready. And he would fight with all he had. If Shaw thought that this was a fight won by magic, so be it. Charles knew better, knew this fight would be won by bluffs and deception. He would not meet Shaw on Shaw's own terms like all the mages before him must have. He would make sure to be the one dictating the terms himself. If this meant giving up fighting with magic, it was something Charles could do. If worst came to worst, all he needed was to get the tome out and run. Killing Shaw in the process was just a bonus, not a necessity. They could run from Shaw again, until Charles was sure to have the upper hand. There wasn't much need to fight in a hurry.

And yet, Charles would rather see Shaw gone today than tomorrow.

 

*** * ***

Shaw was standing by the window, when he suddenly turned around. Erik raised an eyebrow at that, but the look on Shaw's face kept his tongue bound. He watched Shaw grab a knife from the table and position himself between the door and the book. It was like Shaw was doing his best to remain calm, appearing less dangerous than he really was. Only one possible reason for that, Erik knew. He grinned. Charles must be on his way into the hall. Right through the front door, too, that fool, if Shaw had seen him. Erik wished he could warn Charles about the hidden blade, wondering if Shaw would even take the chance and not just attack the minute the door was opened.

Erik shifted his weight, uneasy all of a sudden. The tome shifted with him, leather sliding over the stone floor. The noise was almost too low to be heard, but only almost. As if he had forgotten about Erik before, Shaw turned around. "Hopeful isn't a look for a demon such as yourself," Shaw hissed. He picked up a piece of chalk from the table, possibly the only one not soaked in ruby red liquid. "Don't worry," he murmured as he added a few more lines and runes to the magical circle. "From how your little pet looked like, he only barely managed to get away after his encounter with Emma. I'd wager he's run. Nothing much to him, hm?"

Erik wanted to ask why Shaw was so nervous if his words were true but he couldn't find his voice. His mouth moved, he could feel his tongue forming the right syllables but no noise came past his lips.

"Oh, don't look at me like that, demon," Shaw laughed. "Did you think I would allow you to talk? To _help_ your so called master? Oh no, you stay here. Right here. And watch."

He returned to where he had been waiting for Charles. Soon enough, Erik could hear a heavy door being pushed open. Uneven steps over smooth tiles followed, the first normal but next dragged out, like the one coming was in no state to lift the foot off the ground. It hurt to even imagine that it was Charles who was coming down, over to the laboratory. How bad had he been hurt? Erik clenched his teeth. This must mean the plan against Emma had failed. Charles had had to fight her. Surely he had won. Erik was confident in Charles' abilities, had seen them so many times he had no doubt about them. But to be so badly hurt that he couldn't even walk properly... That fool should have run. Licked his wounds and come back later, when he had healed and was fresh and ready for a fight, not beaten up and tired and... Erik hated himself for thinking like this. Likely to lose.

The steps stopped. They had sounded very close to the door then. Still, for a few moments, nothing happened. Or so Erik would have thought, hadn't he been watching Shaw closely. Shaw was shifting his stance, readying himself for a fight. He was expecting to be attacked through the door, possibly with magic, Erik realized. He knew Charles very badly to be expecting such a behavior from him.

A few heartbeats more passed without anything happening. The door remained closed.

One knock, then another. A pause. Erik looked away from Shaw to the door, as baffled as the sorcerer himself. "Doctor Shaw?" Charles voice sounded strained, as if he had trouble breathing, let alone speaking. "Doctor Shaw, are you in there?" A few more knocks.

Shaw was glaring daggers at the door. "What game is he playing?" he hissed at Erik, as if the demon would have told him even if he'd known or been able to speak. "Come in," he called out, louder. The knife he'd picked up vanished into his belt.

The door was slowly pushed open. Charles, Erik realized once he could see him, was hurt badly, to a degree where even opening doors was causing him trouble. His face was stained with blood, as was his entire left side. One arm looked like it had gone limp. His clothes were dirty, with leaves sticking out everywhere, especially, though, out of his hair, as if he had been send flying through the entire undergrowth of the forest. Erik frowned. This looked too bad to be true. Now that Charles was close to him again, Erik could feel him, could feel his magic, bright and powerful as ever. With so much magic left inside of him, it was impossible that Charles had been beaten up to this degree. There had to be more to this.

"Doctor Shaw, I believe there had been a misunderstanding. I am lead to believe one of your cronies borrowed something from my bedroom. I came to collect it," Charles declared once he had stepped into the laboratory. He was doing his best to look impressive while being in pain. His face looked like it took him a lot of effort to even remain standing straight.

Shaw smirked. "I know of no such misunderstanding," he said, smoothly.

"So that tome over there isn't mine?" Charles asked. His arm shook as he pointed at Erik and the tome in the magical circle, just a moment, before it dropped heavily to his side again.

"That magical book over there?" Shaw said. "Are you sure you want to admit something like that? Who says I won't drag you to the next church and tell them what you just said? I'm sure it'll interest them."

"You wouldn't do that." Charles voice was full of much too false bravado.

"Of course I wouldn't." Shaw smirked. With a wink of his hand, the door fell shut behind Charles.

"Impressive trick, does that scare unwanted guests away?" Charles raised an eyebrow. "I was almost convinced for a second that you used real magic for it. But it's just a trick. I saw you step on that stone, Shaw. And Emma told me, you, with all you know about magic and all you have done to use alchemy to make it seem like you had it in you, have nothing like magic. Why do you think I wouldn't just take back what's mine?" Charles eyes narrowed. Erik knew that look, even though he hadn't seen it more than once before. It was a look of deep old fear hidden behind anger. One Erik had hoped never to see on Charles' again. And yet... it was off in this situation.

For a second, a shadow crossed Shaw's face but it was gone as fast as it had come. "If your so all powerful and mighty," Shaw grit out. "Why don't you just kill me and take the book? Why talk?"

"Because I dislike killing people when it's not necessary," Charles said. He took a step towards Shaw, and thus Erik, and then another one. And one more. "Step aside and I won't harm you."

Shaw huffed. He did a worse job at hiding his real thoughts than Charles. But it were just glimpses. He was still good, as well. If Erik had been less observing, he would have missed the smirk hiding in Shaw's eyes. When Charles took another step forward, Shaw stepped aside. "You're much too forgiving, scribe," he said.

"Maybe," Charles said. He hobbled past Shaw, turning his back to the alchemist, the danger he posed forgotten in a hurry. Erik wanted to cry out then. The knife was suddenly back in Shaw's hand, raised to strike.

"How very foolish of you, scribe," Shaw hissed, as he brought the knife down at Charles' unprotected back.

Unnoticed by Shaw, Charles dropped the pebble he'd held in his hand.

Before it even hit the ground, Charles had already ducked and turned around in the same motion, narrowly avoiding the knife. But he didn't stop then. He used the momentum to throw his body against Shaw. Both stumbled from the impact. Charles didn't even try to regain his footing. Instead, he grabbed Shaw's arm holding the knife and let gravity do the rest.

They crashed to the ground, arms and legs already jumbled. Erik thought he could see Charles on top at first, but then the moved, both trying to get up or at least gain control over the knife. Against any other man, Charles could easily have used his magic in this situation. Like this, he had to rely completely on the advantage surprise had given him. An advantage which didn't last long. Against Shaw, who was bigger and most likely nastier as well, that didn't look good.

In situations like this, when Charles had to wrestle and no chance to use his magic, Erik wished Charles would have learned properly how to fight dirty. He could throw punches at weak spots alright. Shaw's groans were testament enough of that. But he didn't know when to push on and when to withdraw to protect himself. Erik wasn't entirely sure what exactly was going on but he could see Charles was losing. The clatter of the knife across stone as Shaw dropped it in the midst of the brawl did nothing to change Erik's mind.

He wondered why Charles had risked a fight like this. Shaw had not anticipated it, sure, but it had been foolish to believe he could win in a hand-on-hand battle. Annoyed, Erik shifted his stance. If only he could move. Even if he'd just enough space to pace, anything would have been better than having to stand there and watch. But as he moved his foot, he stepped into a puddle.

"What the hell?" Erik murmured. A moment later, he realized that he'd been able to speak again and took a closer look at the magic circle.

Water had washed some of the chalk away, rendering it broken and useless. Somehow, Erik was free again. The water was coming out of the pebble Charles had dropped. Erik smiled when he realized the plan of his friend. Charles must have bewitched the pebble before he'd come in, knowing that he'd only need a little water to wash away the circle binding Erik.

The first thing Erik did when he was sure he could step outside the circle was to make sure Charles could hold out without him a few moments longer. The water was by now dangerously close to the tome and Erik didn't want to risk finding out whether or not Charles' magic still protected it. Slowly, so he would not alarm Shaw prematurely, Erik picked the tome up. As much as he wanted to help Charles as fast as possible, it wouldn't do to let the water damage his book, however small the chance. He put it on the shelf behind him, not trusting the experiments on the table nearly enough to get the tome anywhere near them.

The tome safe, Erik turned back to where Charles and Shaw were now rolling across the floor, both men mustering their last strength to somehow gain the upper hand. Erik could see Shaw had noticed where his knife had landed and was trying to get to it. Just as Erik moved, carefully, around the table to get to them from where Shaw couldn't see him, Charles screamed in pain. Shaw had managed to free his arm enough to punch him in the nose and now used the moment of distraction to get Charles off him entirely, not without kicking him in the stomach for good measure before he got up from the floor and picked up the knife just as Charles had realized what was going on.

"It was a brave attempt, scribe," Shaw said, twirling the knife in his hand. When Charles opened his mouth, he kicked him again. "Nevertheless." Shaw wiped his blood off his face. "It was all in pointless."

"I agree," Erik growled, right behind Shaw. "He could have distracted you in a much less risky way." With this, he rammed the glass shard he'd picked up from the table into the side of Shaw's neck.

*** * ***

Charles was sitting on the floor, leaning against a section of wall free of bookshelves. He'd only quickly cleaned his hands of the blood that had sprayed on them with the pebble, before he'd grabbed the tome. He was now clutching it to his chest, while Erik fussed around his face with a wet piece of cloth. Charles let him. He closed his eyes. After the brawl with Shaw, he felt tired and his whole body ached. He should just heal his wounds, figure out what serious damage Shaw had done to his body and what was just the pain of soon-to-be bruises, but he didn't want to move yet. Feeling the tome under his fingers was enough for now.

"Are you alright?" Erik whispered suddenly. Charles opened his eyes only to find the demon's stare back at him, his eyes worried and grayer, more human, than Charles had seen them in a long time. The cloth in his hand was dark with blood by now, so much of it was there to wash off Charles' face and neck. Most of it wasn't his, despite the still steady drip from his nose.

Until the day he died, he wouldn't be able to forget what it had been like to witness a man being stabbed in the carotid artery. All the blood when the shard was pulled out again. The gurgling noises. Killing was never clean, not really, but it had been a long time since Charles had seen anything this messy. The worst was Erik had looked like he had enjoyed it.

"I'm now," Charles sighed. He ran his fingers over the tome. "I am now." If he looked at Erik too long that moment, it was only because he'd much rather would remember this side of him when he closed his eyes. It reminded him of the man Erik might have been once.

"Where does it hurt?" Erik put down the cloth.

"Everywhere," Charles sighed.

"That's not very precise," Erik chided.

"But the truth nevertheless." Even smiling hurt with a face as bruised as Charles'. He didn't dare to pull a face. "Fine. Fine. I'll move and take care of the worst of it. I just don't want to yet."

"Just a few more minutes?" Erik picked the pebble up and placed in Charles' free hands. The steady flow of water out of it had become a trickle over time. "You should heal yourself up now. Like you should have before coming in."

"I wasn't that hurt then," Charles protested. "I just..."

"I know. I know now. It was a ruse, a trick." Erik kissed him on the lips. It tasted of blood but Charles didn't mind. "Don't ever do that to me again. You scared me."

"It was the only way I thought I could distract him long enough for you to end this," Charles admitted. "I knew, beating him with magic would be too dangerous."

"Shhh." Erik shut him up with another kiss. "You can tell me all about your genius plan later. For now, heal and then rest."

"Can't I just rest first?" Charles closed his eyes again. "Sounds better to me that way."

Erik sighed. "Ok, fine, but this is the last time I heal you. The last one. You're better at it anyway. Where does it hurt the most?"

"Chest. Where he kicked me." Charles lifted the tome off his chest and put it on the floor, with care so it wouldn't get any dirtier. He didn't let go of it. "Broken ribs. Probably. It hurts, anyway."

"Where else?" Erik was already undoing Charles' coat and shirt.

"Nose?" Charles guessed. His entire face hurt, he was not sure what was the worst. "He hit me in the face a couple of times."

Erik nodded while he went to work with Charles' injuries. "Hold still now," he hushed Charles. "You'll be better soon."

*** * ***

Charles had just dozed off, the tome still clutched tight, when Erik heard footsteps. They were so light he didn't notice before whoever it was reached the door. Erik picked up the knife Shaw had dropped when he'd struggled with death and moved to a corner by the door, from which he could attack the intruder should he or she pose a threat. He'd just taken up position when the door moved.

The door was pushed open very slowly, carefully, as if the one opening wasn't sure if they even wanted to enter. Erik raised the knife. And then let it drop, realizing who it was. "Angel?" he whispered.

She jerked so much she pushed the door open entirely.

"Shhht," Erik made sure to show her his empty hands. "It's safe. I won't hurt you."

She looked at him full of disbelief. "Where's Charles?" she whispered back. "Where's... oh god!" Her hands flew up to her mouth, stifling a scream. She had noticed Shaw's body on the floor, in the middle of a pool of blood. "Did you...? Where's Charles?"

Erik jerked his chin in the direction where Charles was leaning against the wall. "He's asleep," Erik said before Angel could even ask. "A bit bruised and beaten up, but he'll live."

"He's alright?" Angel asked, studying Erik's face. Erik nodded. "Oh thank god. I was so worried. He should just have run, that fool." She shook her head.

"That's what I told him, too." Erik tried to smile. "We never stood any chance he would listen. He's a blockhead in these matters. Never knows when to run, whom to fight... I have a theory that's part of his charm." This time, his smile was genuine, fond.

Angel looked at him for a long moment. Erik was sure she was studying his face long enough to see into what was left of his soul. "You love him," she stated in the end.

Seeing no point in denying it, Erik answered, "I promised to stay by his side for the rest of his life."

Angel nodded. It seemed to make sense to her, although Erik could see the sadness that came with the realization on her features as well. She went over to Charles and crouched down by his side. Gently, she wiped some locks from his forehead. "For a while, I thought I could simply seduce him, get him out of my uncle's way unharmed."

Erik had to bite his tongue to prevent himself from commenting on her confession.

"But he never gave in, no matter what I did, or said," Angel sighed. "He lied to me about not having a special someone. I knew it then. And I can see it now. ...but it still hurts, seeing him hurt for your sake."

"So it's my fault now?"

Angel shrugged. "I wasn't the one that was stuck in a chalk circle and needed rescue."

"I honestly have no idea why he likes you." Erik frowned.

"That makes two of us. Any idea what you two will do next?"

"We haven't talked about it yet. Well, obviously, there wasn't really time. But... I'm sure Charles would like to stay in town for a while longer. A year or five, maybe." He realized then why Angel had asked. "What about you? Now that your uncle is dead..."

"I haven't made any plans." Angle sighed. "Emma told me to grab some money and leave, but I like it here. This town is my home, you understand?"

"No, I don't," Erik said truthfully. "But," he added. "I can see it in others. I could offer you something, if you really wanted to stay..."

"I won't make a pact with you!" Angel interrupted him quickly.

"As if I went around and made pacts with just anyone," Erik huffed. "No, I was thinking. Charles will have to leave his shop behind when we'll go back on the road again and he's a sentimental fool at the best of times, so I'm sure he'll want to know it in good hands before he leaves. Good hands, or, ideally, hands he trained himself."

From the widening grin on Angel's face, Erik guessed she'd understood him already while he was still talking. "Don't you think Charles would mind a female apprentice?"

"He likes you," Erik grumbled.

"You don't," Angel deadpanned.

"No, but I can tolerate you as long as you keep your hands off him. Which you will."

"There will be rumors about us, no matter what," she reminded him. Did he imagine it, or was she teasing him now?

Erik huffed, "At least that will keep all the other women at bay."

"So, you want me to stay and train under Charles as... what?"

"A wise woman, or whatever it's called these days," Erik shrugged. "Apothecary was the term Charles used, I believe. And one day, we will leave and the shop will be yours. I can't promise it, of course, but I think Charles would like it."

"Yeah, I think so, too."


	6. Epilogue

In the end, they stayed half a year longer than planned. The years just had come and gone before either of the three of them had expected and each spring, Charles would say there was still so much to teach Angel and each fall, neither Erik nor Charles were particularly eager to go on traveling. 

This last winter, however, had left Erik restless and uneasy. And even though he didn't show it as acute, Charles was much the same. They agreed that as soon as spring had come for sure, they would leave. That people had started to notice Charles was for all they knew close to his forties and still rather looking like he was only in his late twenties, if that, went without saying between them. Angel losing her last childlike features for the beauty of a young woman was reminder enough for all of them.

"Are you sure you will be alright on your own?" Charles asked. He had just hugged Angel goodbye. A backpack full of all things necessary for long travels was waiting next to a couple of saddlebags filled with food and medicines. A sturdy mule was waiting outside for them, ready to go.

"Of course I will!" Angel assured him. "You're asking me this for the umphteenth time! Get going already! Shoo! Out! Erik, do something or he'll never leave!"

"Maybe he's just not satified with your training yet," Erik smirked.

Charles glared at him. "Of course I am!" he protested.

"Then let's get going. I want to get some miles between us and this town before dark." Erik jerked his head at the door. "I'm sure kiddo will do just fine without you."

"Oh, fine." Charles hugged Angel for one last time. "If you ever need help..."

"I will call for your help," Angel promised, showing the pendant Charles and Erik had made for her for this purpose to him. "Now off you go or I'll never be able to use it."

Charles made it to the door before he turned around a last time. "Good bye, Angel."

"Good bye, Charles. And, good luck." She didn't follow them outside. She remained standing leaned against the counter and waved, once. "Take care of him, Erik."

"As long as he'll listen," Erik grinned. "I will. Promise. Take good care of yourself."

It was a bright day outside. The sky was blue, without almost no clouds in sight. A perfect day for the start of a new journey.


End file.
